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Frincetcn,  K..  J. 


f 


"^R  172b  .UT6  0T5'  185b      ^ 
Orme,  William,  1787-1830. 
Memoirs,  including  letters, 
and  select  remains,  of  Joh 


MEMOIRS 


INCLUDING 


LETTERS,    AND    SELECT    REMAINS, 


OP 


JOHN    UliaUHAKT, 


LATE    OP    THE 


UNIVERSITY  OF  ST.  ANDREW'S. 

BY  WILLIAM  OME. 


WITH  A  PREFATORY  NOTICE  AND  RECOMMENDATION, 
BY  ALEXANDER  DUFF,  D.D.,  LL.D. 


"Multis  ille  bonis  flebilis  occidit." — Horat  Carm. 

" What  though  short  thy  date? 

Virtue,  not  rolling  suns,  the  mind  matures;  — 
The  man  of  wisdom  is  the  man  of  years." — Young. 


PHILADELPHIA: 
PRESBYTERIAN  BOARD  OF  PUBLICATION, 

No.  265  CnESTNUT  STREET. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1855,  by 
A.  W.   MITCHELL,   M.D., 

in  the  Clerk's  OflSce  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  in  and  for  the 
Eastern  District  of  Pennsylvania. 

6TEKE0TYPED  BY  J.  FAGAN. 


(2) 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

Prefatory  Notice  and  Recommendation 7 

Preface  to  the  First  Edition » 29 

CHAPTER  I. 

Introductory  observations  —  John's  birth,  and  early  education 
—  John  sent  to  the  Grammar  School  of  Perth  —  Mr.  Duff's 
account  of  him  while  there 33 

CHAPTER  II. 

Difficulties  in  determining  his  profession  —  He  is  sent  to  the 
University  of  St.  Andrew's  —  Letter  to  his  father,  giving  an 
account  of  his  gaining  the  first  bursary  —  Letter  to  his 
mother  —  His  success  at  the  end  of  the  first  session  —  Mr. 
Duff's  observations  on  his  conduct  at  this  time  —  Return  to 
St.  Andrew's  —  Letter,  giving  an  account  of  his  early  impres- 
sions, and  change  of  mind  —  Remarks  on  this  subject  —  His 
views  of  Christian  fellowship  —  Success  at  the  end   of  his 

second  session 44 

(3) 


4  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  III. 

PAQB 

Introduction  to  Dr.  Chalmers  —  Attends  the  Moral  Philosophy 
class — First  appearance  at  this  class  —  Letter  to  his  father, 
on  the  formation  of  the  University  Missionary  Society  —  On 
the  same,  and  other  topics  —  Mr.  Duff's  account  of  the  pro- 
gress of  his  religious  views  —  Letter  to  his  parents,  on  the 
death  of  a  younger  brother  —  Letter  to  Mr.  Orme,  partly  on 
the  same  subject  —  Letter  to  his  mother  —  Letter  to  his  brother 
—  Letter  to  his  sister  —  Letter  to  an  afflicted  friend  —  Letter 
to  the  same  —  His  diligence  at  Dr.  Chalmers's  class  —  Letter 
to  a  young  friend  —  Letter  to  his  father  —  Success  during  the 
third  session  at  College  —  View  of  John's  talents  and  charac- 
ter at  this  time,  by  a  fellow-student 65 

CHAPTER  IV. 

Introductory  observations  —  John's  return  home  at  the  end  of 
his  third  session  —  Letter  respecting  his  going  to  some  of  the 
Dissenting  Academies  —  Letter  illustrative  of  his  state  of 
mind  —  Letters — His  employments  during  the  vacation  — 
Letter  to  Mr.  Craik  — His  visit  to  London  —  Mr.  Adam's  ac- 
count of  him  at  this  time  —  Letters  to  his  father — Engage- 
ments during  the  winter  —  Letters  to  a  friend  —  Letter  to  his 
brother  —  Letter  to  his  mother  —  Letter  to  a  friend  —  Letter 
to  Mr.  Orme  —  Opposition  of  his  friends  to  his  Missionary 
devotednesg  —  Mr.  Duff's  account  of  him  —  Testimonies  to 
his  literary  attainments  —  Mr.  Alexander's  account  of  him 
— Dr.  Chalmers's  certificate 108 

CHAPTER  V 

Letter  to  his  Mother  in  reference  to  his  becoming  a  Tutor  in  a 
family  of  high  respectability —  Letter  to  Herbert  Smith,  Esq. 


CONTENTS.  5^ 

PAQB 

—  Extracts  from  his  Journal— Letter  to  Mr.  Craik— Letter- 
Extracts  from  his  Journal  — Letter  to  Mr.  Trail— Letter  to 
his  Sister  —  Letters  —  Extracts  from  various  letters  to  Mr. 
Scott  Moncrieff  —  Letter  to  his  friend  C.  —  Letter  to  Mr.  Her- 
bert Smith  — Letter  to  the  Rev.  John  Burnett  — Letter  to  Mr. 
Adam  —  Letter  to  Mr.  Orme  —  Letter  —  Letters  to  his  Sister 

—  Letter  to  Mr.  Trail  — Letter  to  Mr.  Adam  — Letter  to  his 
afflicted  friend  —  Letter  to  Mr.  Trail 176 

CHAPTER  VL 

The  commencement  of  his  last  illness  —  Extract  from  his 
Journal  — Letter  to  Mr.  Tate  —  Letter  to  Mr.  Craik  — Letter 
to  his  father  —  Letter  from  Mr.  Ewing  to  his  father  —  Letter 
from  Mrs.  Ewing  to  the  same  —  Letter  from  Mrs.  Ewing, 
giving  an  account  of  his  illness  and  death  —  Letter  from 
Miss  Cathcart  on  the  same  subject —  His  death  —  Letter  from 
Dr.  Chalmers  to  his  father — Lines  addressed  to  John  by  a 
friend — Concluding  observations  on  his  character  and  death.  247 

APPENDIX. 

A. — An  Essay  on  the  Nature  and  Design  of  the  Mission  of  the 

Saviour  on  Earth 279 

B. — Dr.  Chalmers  —  The  St.  Andrew's  Missionary  Society 286 

C. — Essay  on  the  Division  of  Philosophy 295 

Essay  on  the  Analogy  which  subsists  between  the  Operations 

of  Nature  and  the  Operations  of  Political  Economy 297 

That   Knowledge   gives    its   Possessor   more    Power   than 

Wealth  does 302 

An  Essay  on  the  Selfish  System 306 

1* 


6  CONTENTS, 


PAGB 


D.— The  Doctrine  of  a  Gradation  in  Rewards  and  Punishments, 

and  an  attempt  to  apply  it  to  the  subject  of  Missions. . .   311 
E.— Essay  on  the  Distinction  between  Productive  and  Unpro- 
ductive Labour 326 

F._On  Written  Language. 331 

On  Religious  Establishments 334 

On  the  Love  of  Fame 336 

G. — Discourse  on  2  Cor.  iv.  13. _ 340 

H. — Essay  on  Natural  Religion 356 

I.  —  Prize  Essay.  —  On  the  Mutual  Influences  and  Affinities, 
which  obtain  between  the  Moral  and  the  Economic  con- 
dition of  Society 363 

K. — Address  to  the  St.  Andrew^s  University  Missionary  Society, 
on  the  Duty  of  Personal  engagement   in  the  work  of 

Missions 381 

L. — Address  to  a  Society  of  Young  Men 400 

Address  to  his  Class  of  Young  Men 408 

M. — On  Fiction  as  a  Medium  of  Religious  Instruction 413 

On  the  Omnipresence  and  Omniscience  of  God 418 


PREFATOEY    NOTICE 


RECOMMENDATION. 


BY    THE    REV.   DR.   DUFF. 


Having  been  personally  acquainted  with  the  subject  of  the  follow- 
ing memoir,  I  was  requested,  during  my  recent  visit  to  the  United 
States,  by  my  revered  friend  James  Lenox,  Esq.,  of  New  York,  to  look 
over  the  last  English  edition,  and  mark  what  alterations  might  advan- 
tageously be  made  in  a  projected  American  edition  of  the  work. 

This  revision,  hitherto  delayed  from  unavoidable  causes  which  it 
is  needless  to  recount,  has  now  been  accomplished.  As  the  general 
result,  it  may  be  stated  that  several  minor  mistakes,  into  which  the 
Biographer  had  inadvertently  fallen,  have  been  corrected  ;  that  vari- 
ous passages  of  inferior  importance,  or  of  merely  local  or  ephemeral 
interest,  have  been  omitted ;  that  the  essays  of  a  purely  literary  or 
philosophical  character  have  been  extruded  from  the  body  of  the 
work  and  thrown  into  an  Appendix  ;  and  finally,  that  the  whole  has 
been  broken  up  into  the  more  convenient  division  of  chapters. 

AVith  many  it  may  be  a  matter  of  doubt,  whether  the  essays  ought 
not  to  be  excluded  altogether.  But,  on  mature  consideration,  it  has 
been  thought  that  the  same  reasons  which  weighed  with  the  Biogra- 
pher in  originally  introducing  them,  may  well  be  regarded  as  still 
sufficiently  valid  in  warranting  the  continued  retention  of  them. 
They  are  not  numerous  ;  they  do  not  occupy  any  considerable  or  dis- 
proportionate space ;  and  they  may  serve  to  show  the  students  of 

(7) 


8  PREFATORY    NOTICE. 

mere  secular  philosophy,  how,  between  true  science  and  true  religion, 
there  is  not  only  no  real  discrepancy,  but  a  beauteous  and  mutually 
enhancing  harmony;  and  how,  with  the  utmost  ease,  precision,  and 
intelligence,  a  Christian  young  man,  whose  whole  soul  was  inflamed 
with  the  spirit  of  missions,  could,  in  the  ordinary  course  of  his 
academic  career,  and  at  the  call  of  duty,  turn  aside  and  successfully 
grapple  with  some  of  the  most  abstruse  and  perplexing  questions  iu 
ethics  and  political  economy.  Considered  as  the  college  exercises  of 
a  youth  of  little  more  than  sixteen,  they  cannot  but  be  pronounced 
as  no  ordinary  productions.  Their  simplicity,  as  Mr.  Orme  has  truly 
remarked,  constitutes  their  charm;  the  lucidus  ordo  is  most  delight- 
fully exemplified  in  every  one  of  them ;  his  thoughts  constantly  flow 
in  a  train  peculiarly  clear,  always  natural  and  unaffected  ;  and  the 
easy  diction  in  which  he  expressed  himself  was  the  perfect  picture 
of  his  mind. 

The  grand  object,  however,  of  the  memoir  is,  to  exhibit  the  rise, 
progress,  and  formation  of  the  religious  character  of  the  individual 
whose  short  life  is  illustrated.  Amid  the  many  clustering  excel- 
lencies that  adorned  that  character,  by  far  the  most  prominent  and 
striking  was  the  evangelistic  spirit  and  self-devotion  by  which  it  was 
so  peculiarly  distinguished.  It  was  this  which  chiefly  conferred  on 
it  at  once  its  lustre  and  its  uniqueness.  The  Church  of  Christ  in  all 
lands  can  happily  point  to  not  a  few  young  men  of  sincere  and 
shining  piety;  but,  unhappily,  to  very  few,  who,  at  the  age  of  young 
Urquhart,  have  been  privileged  to  obtain  and  cherish  so  marvellously 
clear  and  intelligent  an  apprehension  of  the  duty  of  exemplifying 
that  piety  by  a  solemn  act  of  personal  dedication  to  the  God-like 
enterprise  of  the  world's  evangelization. 

It  is  under  this  more  distinctive  aspect  of  it,  that  I  would  earnestly 
crave  the  special  attention  of  Christian  young  men  in  general,  and 
more  particularly  of  Christian  students  and  candidates  for  the  minis- 
try, to  the  life  of  John  Urquhart. 


PREFATORY    NOTICE.  0 

In  his  case,  we  find  the  true  rationale  of  personal  dedication  to  the 
cause  of  missions,  unfolded  with  singular  point  and  clearness. 
In  early  youth  it  was  his  inestimable  privilege  to  enjoy  the  benefit 
of  religious  training,  under  the  instruction  and  example  of  pious 
parents.  Being  naturally  of  a  mild,  gentle,  amiable,  guileless, 
Nathanael-like  disposition,  such  example  and  instruction  could  not 
fail  to  have  their  due  efifect,  in  not  only  restraining  him  from  the 
commission  of  gross  outward  sin,  and  saving  him  from  the  contagious 
influences  of  evil  companionship,  but  also  in  superinducing  a  habit 
of  internal  conformity  to  the  practices  of  Christian  devotion  and 
worship.  Still,  until  he  had  passed  his  fourteenth  year,  there  is 
no  evidence  whatever  of  his  having  undergone  the  great  change 
of  the  new  birth  in  the  soul.  On  this  subject,  his  own  statement  to 
his  pastor,  Mr.  Orme,  is  perfectly  explicit.  Writing,  in  April,  1824, 
he  says,  "  My  first  impressions  of  danger,  as  a  sinner,  were  caused 
by  a  sermon  you  preached,  on  a  Lord's  day  evening,  about  a  year 
and  a  half  ago.  At  the  time,  I  was  very  much  afi'ected  ;  it  was  then, 
I  think,  that  I  first  really  prayed.  I  retired  to  my  apartment,  and 
with  many  tears  confessed  my  guilt  before  God." 

This  first  partial  awakening  occurred  towards  the  close  of  the 
autumn  of  1822.  Soon  afterwards  he  went,  for  the  first  time,  to  the 
College  of  St.  Andrew's.  There  his  first  religious  impressions  be- 
came somewhat  blunted,  though  not  efi'aced.  On  his  return  home  in 
the  summer  of  1823,  he  tells  us  that  he  began  to  feel  less  pleasure  in 
the  exercises  of  prayer,  and  praise,  and  reading  of  the  Scriptures ; 
yea,  that  these  employments  became  a  weariness  to  him,  and  were  at 
last  almost  totally  neglected.  "  My  soul,"  he  adds,  "  reverted  to  its 
original  bent,  and  the  follies  of  this  world  wholly  engrossed  my 
attention,  and  had  I  been  left  in  that  state,  I  must  have  inevitably 
perished." 

But  the  Lord,  who  is  rich  in  mercy,  and  who  delighteth  not  in  the 
death  of  the  wicked,  had  better  things  in  store  for  him.    Through  the 


10  PREFATORY    NOTICE. 

powerful  operation  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  a  process  of  illumination  and 
conviction  was  commenced  and  carried  on  in  his  soul,  until  at  last  it 
issued  in  manifest  conversion  to  God.  Returning  to  St,  Andrew's, 
for  the  second  time,  towards  the  close  of  the  autumn  of  1823,  he  was 
enabled,  before  the  end  of  that  session,  thus  to  write:  "God,  in  his 
infinite  mercy,  has  again  been  pleased  to  call  my  attention  to  the 
things  of  eternity.  For  some  months  back,  I  have  been  led  to  see 
the  utter  worthlessness  of  earthly  things ;  to  see  that  happiness  is 
not  to  be  found  in  any  earthly  object.  And  I  think  I  have  been  led 
to  seek  it  where  alone  it  is  to  be  found  —  in  Jesus  crucified  for  me. 
I  have  felt  great  pleasure  in  communion  with  God;  and  I  have  felt 
some  love,  though  faint,  to  the  Saviour  and  to  his  cause.  I  have  had 
a  long  struggle  with  the  world.  I  have  counted  the  cost,  and  I  have 
at  last  resolved  that  I  will  serve  the'  Lord." 

Under  these  re-awakened  and  more  vital  impressions,  and  as  a 
scripturally  ordained  means  of  heightening  and  permanizing  them, 
he  at  once  resolved  openly  to  profess  his  faith  in  Jesus,  by  formally 
entering  the  communion  and  fellowship  of  a  Christian  church. 
Relative  to  this  decisive  step,  his  biographer  with  equal  truth  and 
emphasis  remarks,  that  his  reasons  for  taking  it,  "  were  those  by 
which  he  appeared  to  have  been  invariably  influenced  in  his  reli- 
gious course.  He  first  sought  to  ascertain  what  was  the  will  of  God  ; 
and  on  arriving  at  a  satisfactory  conclusion  on  this  point,  he  was 
then  prepared  to  encounter  all  difficulties  which  stand  in  the  way  of 
full  compliance  with  it.  He  delayed  not,  but  hastened  to  keep  the 
commandment." 

On  being  received  as  a  member  of  the  Church  of  Christ,  he  not 
only  felt  keenly  alive  to  the  seriousness  and  solemnity  of  the  step  he 
had  taken,  but  entertained  the  most  humbling  sense  of  his  own 
weakness  and  unworthiness,  —  coupled,  however,  with  a  well- 
grounded  reliance  on  the  all-sufficiency  of  his  covenant  God:  "I 
Bee,"  he  remarks,  "  many  temptations  in  my  way,  and  I  feel  that  I 


PREFATORY    NOTICE.  11 

am  not  able  in  myself  to  withstand  them.  May  God  perfect  his 
strength  in  my  weakness,  and  may  he  enable  me  henceforth  to  live, 
not  to  myself,  but  to  Him  who  died  for  me,  and  who  rose  again ;  to 
offer  7mj  body  a  living  sacrijice,  and  to  devote  all  the  faculties  of  my 
mind  to  his  service." 

These  were  no  mere  words  of  course,  expressive  of  aspirations  that 
•were  to  perish  with  the  utterance.  No ;  they  were  the  spontaneous 
effusion  of  an  intensely  conscientious  and  ingenuous  mind.  From' 
the  day  that  he  united  himself,  as  a  member,  to  the  body  or  visible 
Church  of  Christ,  by  a  deliberate  act  of  public  communion,  it  was 
clear  to  all  around,  that  he  regarded  himself,  in  strictest  literality, 
as  "no  longer  his  own,"  but  as  one  "bought  with  a  price;"  and 
therefore  bound  to  serve  his  divine  Lord  and  Redeemer,  with  "  soul, 
body,  and  spirit,  which  were  his."  Suddenly  startled  out  of  the 
dreamy  indifference  and  illusory  visions  of  old  nature  —  arrested  in 
his  downward  career  towards  the  fiery  lake  —  snatched  as  a  brand 
from  the  burning  —  and  overwhelmed  under  a  vividly  realizing  sense 
of  so  great  a  deliverance,  he  might  well  have  given  expression  to  the 
actual  inner  workings  and  new  spiritual  instincts  of  his  soul  in  words 
like  these :  "  Lord,  what  wilt  thou  have  me  to  do  ?  How  can  I  most 
effectually  testify  my  adoring  gratitude  and  love?  Here  am  I  a  sin- 
ful, guilty  rebel,  ransomed  by  thy  blood  from  the  power  of  sin,  and 
death,  and  hell,  and  the  grave ;  do  with  me  what  thou  wilt,  for  I  am 
thy  servant,  under  obligation  the  most  absolute  to  be  and  to  do 
whatsoever  thou  wilt." 

Assuredly,  in  his  case,  there  was  no  first  consulting  with  mere 
flesh  and  blood  !  No  tacit  reserve  in  favour  of  mere  natural  tastes 
or  antecedent  predilections  !  No  partial  or  half  deference  to  the 
whims  or  humours,  the  likings  or  prejudices  of  friends !  No  plausi- 
ble transference,  through  a  voluntary  humility,  of  individual  personal 
responsibility  to  the  arbitrary  decision  of  others  !  No  secret  clinging 
or  cleaving  to  any  favourite  or  previously  cherished  scheme  or  depart- 


12  PREFATORY    NOTICE. 

ment  of  labour !  No  timorous  respect  to  the  ordinary  routine  or 
stereotyped  conventionalities  of  ecclesiastical  usage  !  No  !  "  Here 
I  am,  Lord,  whenever,  wherever,  in  what  way  soever  tliou  wilt  have 
me  to  serve  thee  —  only  do  thou  show  me,  that  I  may  promptly 
obey,'' — seems  but  the  faithful  and  compendious  embodiment  of  the 
real  feelings  and  convictions  of  his  heart. 

It  was,  then,  when  in  this  Isaiah-like,  Paul-like  mood  and  frame 
of  mind,  the  true  spring  and  source  of  noblest  self-renunciation  and 
most  heroic  self-sacrifice,  that  the  Lord  was  pleased  powerfully  to 
impress  his  mind  with  a  desire  to  devote  himself  to  the  Christian 
ministry,  in  direct  connection  with  the  reat  work  of  heathen  evan- 
gelization, as  the  sphere  in  which,  if  rightly  improved,  most  glory 
might  accrue  to  God,  and  most  good  to  the  souls  of  men.  Thus  it 
was,  that  in  his  case,  the  evangelistic  spirit,  which  ultimately  led  to 
so  solemn  an  act  of  personal  consecration,  was  coeval  with  the  dawn 
and  manifestation  of  the  new  birth  in  his  soul.  Planted  there,  as  in 
a  soil  prepared  by  the  Holy  Spirit,  and  watered  by  the  dews  of  the 
heavenly  grace,  the  tender  germ  gradually  sprung  up  into  stature 
and  strength,  keeping  pace  with  the  growth  of  the  new  man,  until, 
at  last,  it  bore  the  ripened  fruit  of  an  unconquerable  resolve. 

It  is  true  that  with  the  subject  of  missions,  in  its  general  aspects, 
he  had  long  been  well  acquainted.  It  was  one  in  which  his  pious 
parents  and  pastor  were  deeply  interested.  It  was,  therefore,  linked 
with  many  of  his  earliest  and  most  familiar  home  associations.  But 
it  was  not  until  he  himself  was  sought  out,  effectually  called,  and 
quickened,  as  one  of  the  lost,  that  he  began  to  feel  the  influence  of  a 
Saviour's  example  and  command  constraining  him  to  consider, 
whether  it  might  not  be  his  own  duty,  in  imitation  of  his  divine  Lord 
and  Master,  to  go  forth  in  person,  into  "the  waste  howling  wilderness" 
of  sin  and  death,  to  seek  and  to  save  the  lost !  The  discovery  of  his 
own  ruined  condition  by  nature,  opened  up  to  his  unsealed  vision  a 
new  and  appalling  prospect  of  the  whole  world  lying  in  wickedness, 


PREFATORY    NOTICE.  13 

and  exposed  to  endless  miseries  here  and  hereafter.  The  felt  realiza- 
tion of  the  joy  and  blessedness  of  pardon  and  sanctifying  grace  to 
his  own  soul,  from  the  Fount  itself  of  redeeming  love,  inspired  him 
with  new  and  unwonted  motions  of  sympathy  and  compassion  to- 
wards the  perishing,  as  well  as  new  and  unwonted  desires  to  be 
honoured  as  the  herald  to  them  of  the  glad  tidings  of  a  great  salva- 
tion. An  overpowering  sense  of  grateful  loyalty  to  Ilim  to  whom  he 
owed  his  own  everlasting  life,  inspired  him  with  an  uncontrollable 
longing  to  do  what  in  him  lay,  to  advance  that  glorious  cause  of  the 
world's  evangelization,  in  the  consummation  of  which  alone  lie  shall 
see  of  the  travail  of  his  soul  and  be  satisfied.  Thus  it  was  that,  in 
him,  the  first  stirring  of  the  missionary  spirit  was  not  the  impulse 
of  a  mere  ordinary  philanthropy  —  not  the  fitful  gleam  of  a  doating 
imagination  —  not  the  fond  vision  of  chivalrous  romance  —  not  the 
Budden  movement  of  excited  feeling  —  not  the  wild  project  of  adven- 
turous enterprise  —  not  the  momentary  flash  and  sparkle  of  an 
ebullient  enthusiasm.  Oh,  no  !  It  was  the  welling  forth  of  a  divine 
sentiment  of  pity  and  compassion,  gratitude  and  love,  from  the  pro- 
foundest  depths  of  a  renovated  spirit  —  it  was  the  lighting  up  of  a 
radiant  and  enduring  principle  of  life  and  energy  in  a  soul,  now 
struggling  in  the  new  pathway  of  holy  duty,  to  disengage  itself 
•wholly  from  the  smoke  and  tarnish  of  a  turbid  earthly  atmosphere. 

Still,  he  was  very  young  and  inexperienced,  not  having  yet  com- 
pleted his  sixteenth  year.  On  this  account,  with  a  judgment  pre- 
eminently sound,  he  resolved,  in  the  first  instance,  to  keep  his  newly 
awakened  thoughts  and  desires  to  himself,  spreading  them  out  before 
God  only,  and  seeking  for  further  light  from  the  illumination  of  the 
Holy  Spirit,  in  the  reading  of  Scripture,  meditation,  and  prayer. 
A  better  evidence  of  perfect  calmness  and  sobriety,  coupled  with 
earnest  determination,  could  scarcely  be  aff'orded,  than  was  indicated 
by  this  course  of  action,  "  If,"  wrote  he,  even  at  a  later  period, 
"if  my  wish  to  preach  the  gospel  of  Christ  among  the  heathen,  have 

2 


14  PREFATORY    NOTICE. 

in  it  aught  of  the  romance  of  a  boyish  imagination,  a  few  years' 
thought  and  experience  will  extinguish  its  ardour ;  but  if  the  Lord 
has  appointed  me  to  declare  his  name  among  the  Gentiles,  and  that 
wish  has  been  implanted  in  my  breast  by  the  Spirit  of  God,  delays 
and  disappointments  will  but  foster  its  growth,  and  make  it  yet  more 
Tigorous."  How  sagaciously  he  had  thus  judged,  the  result  abund- 
antly proved. 

After  the  lapse  of  a  considerable  period,  devoted  to  private  read- 
ings, meditation,  and  prayer,  he  resolved  in  his  intense  anxiety  to 
learn  his  Lord's  will  in  the  matter,  to  seek  for  light  from  every  avail- 
able extraneous  source,  steadfastly  watching  the  leadings  of  Provi- 
dence with  a  filial  eye.  Conscious  of  his  own  liability  to  err,  and 
with  a  diffidence  and  modesty  peculiar  to  the  sincere  inquirer  after 
truth  and  the  path  of  duty,  he  was  led,  among  other  means  of  en- 
lightenment, to  ask  counsel  from  friends  to  whose  candour  and 
practical  wisdom  he  might  look  with  some  degree  of  confidence;  not 
that  such  counsel  might  form  a  decisive  or  determining  element  in 
the  case,  but  simply  furnish  materials  for  the  confirmation  or  correc- 
tion of  his  own  immatured  judgment.  It  was  to  his  pastor,  Mr. 
Orme,  that  in  his  letter  of  February  18th,  1825,  he  very  natur- 
ally and  properly  first  unbosomed  his  mind  on  the  subject,  stating 
that  he  had  long  considered  the  object  of  the  missionary  enterprise, 
as  "  one  of  the  most  important,  perhaps,  the  most  important,  which 
can  engage  the  mind  of  a  Christian  ;"  that,  "for  some  time  he  had 
even  seriously  thought  of  devoting  his  own  life  to  the  cause  of  mis- 
sions ;"  that  he  was  "  aware  of  the  difficulties  to  be  encountered,  and 
of  the  danger  of  rashly  forming  a  resolution  of  such  importance  ;'^ 
that  "  even  the  desire  he  had  thus  expressed  was  the  fruit  of  much 
meditation  and  prayer ;"  and  that  he  had  "  communicated  it  to  Mr. 
Orme  in  order  to  have  the  benefit  of  his  advice." 

But  while  he  thus  sought  the  counsel  of  experienced  friends,  it 
was  from  the  Bible  that  he  drew  his  chief  inspiration  and  guidance; 


PREFATORY    NOTICE.  15 

praying  at  the  same  time,  for  the  illumining  influences  of  the  Holy 
Spirit.  The  substance  of  his  cogitations  and  conclusions  in  this 
direction  he  himself  supplies.  In  a  letter  to  a  friend,  July  8th,  1825, 
he  remarks  as  follows :  — 

"  In  connection  with  this  matter,  I  have  been  led  to  consider  more 
attentively  those  passages  of  Scripture  which  refer  to  missionary 
exertions,  and  the  result  has  been  a  deeper  impression  than  ever  of 
the  duty  of  engaging  in  this  work.  It  is  very  true  that  much  has  to 
be  done  at  home ;  that  there  are  many  here,  as  my  friend  Craik 
writes,  who  *  can  only  be  considered  in  the  light  of  more  criminal 
heathens.'  But  this  is  a  wilful  ignorance;  they  are  not  ' perishing 
from  lack  of  knowledge.'  And  this  argument,  if  carried  to  its  full 
extent,  would  stifle  missionary  exertions  to  the  very  end  of  the 
world.  What  would  have  been  the  "consequence  had  the  apostles 
resolved  not  to  leave  Jerusalem  till  every  one  of  their  brethren 
according  to  the  flesh  was  truly  converted?  The  Gentiles  would 
not  have  received  the  glad  tidings  of  salvation  to  the  present  hour. 
This  was  not  the  commandment  the  apostles  received,  however;  and 
accordingly  they  acted  in  a  very  difl'erent  manner.  They  were  to 
preach  the  gospel  to  all  nations,  heginjiing  at  Jerusalem.  The 
nation  of  the  Jews  had  a  claim  upon  the  first  preachers  of  Christi- 
anity which  our  countrymen  have  not  upon  us.  They  were  not  only 
their  '  brethren  according  to  the  flesh,'  but  they  were  also  God's 
chosen  nation ;  and  as  such  it  was  right  that  they  should  enjoy  a 
pre-eminence  over  all  others,  in  first  receiving  the  proclamation  of 
pardon.  But  how  did  their  brethren,  the  apostles,  act  even  to  this 
favoured  nation  ?  They  made  a  full  declaration  of  salvation  through 
Christ ;  they  made  a  free  tender  of  the  mercy  of  Jehovah ;  but  by 
almost  all  this  mercy  was  slighted  and  rejected.  By  thus  sinnino* 
against  greater  light,  these  individuals  became  more  criminal  even 
than  the  heathen.    Did  the  apostles,  therefore,  think  that  they  should 


16  PREFATORY    NOTICE. 

not  go  forth  to  the  heathen  till  all  these  rejecters  of  the  truth  were 
convinced  of  the  error  of  their  ways  ?  No ;  that  very  rejection  of  the 
gospel  by  their  countrymen  was  a  signal  for  their  departure.  '  See- 
ing ye  reject,'  &c.,  *  behold,  we  turn  to  the  Gentiles/  Had  the  gospel 
been  proclaimed  in  like  manner  to  all  other  nations,  the  apostles 
would  have  felt  it  their  duty  to  have  laboured  assiduously  among 
their  brethren  at  home.  But,  while  there  •emained  a  single  nation 
on  the  face  of  the  earth  that  had  not  received  the  knowledge  of  salva- 
tion, they  felt  that  the  parting  commandment  of  their  Master  was 
not  yet  fully  obeyed ;  and  while  they  lived,  they  made  it  their  busi- 
ness more  and  more  fully  to  execute  that  command.  But  their  mis- 
sionary spirit  died  with  them ;  and  at  the  present  hour  that  com- 
mandment remains  still  unobeyed.  Is  it  difficult,  in  this  case,  to 
see  the  path  of  duty?  Besides,  I  cannot  see  that  by  preaching  at 
home  we  hasten  the  coming  glory  of  the  Church.  God  has  promised 
that  all  shall  Iznow  him.  He  has  not  promised  that  all  shall  serve 
him.  On  the  contrary,  he  has  said  that  he  will  gather  his  people 
out  of  every  nation,  kindred,  and  tongue,  and  people ;  which  evi- 
dently implies  that  all  shall  not  be  his  people.  Far  be  it  from  me  to 
depreciate  the  work  of  the  ministry  at  home.  It  is  a  most  important 
work.  But  still,  while  there  are  any  sitting  in  darkness  and  the 
shadow  of  death,  it  must  yield  in  importance  to  the  missionary  field. 
Besides,  who  can  tell  what  an  effect  our  neglect  of  God's  command- 
ment to  preach  to  all  nations  may  have  in  causing  him  to  withhold 
his  Spirit  from  the  exertions  of  Christians  at  home  ?'' 

In  a  subsequent  letter  he  supplements  this  clear,  simple,  resistless 
scriptural  statement,  by  the  following  very  impressive  view:  — 

"  I  still  am  inclined  to  think  that  the  publication  of  the  gospel  as 
a  message  of  mercy  to  sinners  is  the  grand  object  for  which  the 
Christian  ministry  was  instituted ;  at  least  it  is  one  of  the  greatest 


PREFATORY    NOTICE.  17 

objects.  I  do  think  that  even  the  edification  of  the  body  of  Christ 
yields  to  it  in  point  of  importance.  We  believe  that  if  a  sinner  once 
embraces  the  gospel  he  cannot  finally  fall  away;  and  even  if  his  pro- 
gress in  the  divine  life  should  be  slow,  we  know  that  in  a  very  few 
years  at  the  farthest,  a  full  display  of  the  glories  of  the  divine 
character  must  burst  upon  him.  Now,  whether  is  it  a  more  import- 
ant work  to  rescue  a  sinner  from  hell  and  place  him  in  this  condition 
of  safety,  or  to  antedate,  in  a  very  slight  degree,  the  happiness  of  a 
future  state  in  one  who  has  believed?  For,  all  our  advances  in  the 
knowledge  of  divine  truth  here  must  be  held  insignificant,  when 
compared  with  the  immense  addition  to  our  knowledge  and  our  hap- 
piness, which  we  shall  receive  at  that  time  when  the  dim  conceptions 
of  faith  shall  be  exchanged  for  the  bright  realities  of  actual  vision. 
I  beg  that  you  would  not  understand  me  as  estimating  lightly  the 
•work  of  grace  in  the  hearts  of  believers.  It  is  only  when  contrasted 
with  the  work  of  regeneration  that  I  would  ever  think  of  it  as  of 
secondary  importance.  But  I  am  not  sure  that  the  work  of  grace 
would  go  on  more  slowly  in  the  hearts  of  believers,  from  the  attention 
of  the  pastors  being  more  called  to  the  work  of  evangelizing  the 
heathen.  I  do  think  in  the  present  day  we  are  apt  to  trust  too  much 
to  public  ordinances,  and  I  would  almost  like  to  see  Christians  more 
thrown  upon  the  resources  of  private  devotion,  and  more  direct  com- 
munion with  God.  Our  knowledge  of  divine  things,  to  be  sure,  is 
small ;  but,  0  that  our  piety  were  but  equal  to  our  knowledge  V 

As  a  further  means  of  furnishing  himself  with  sufficient  data  to 
ensure  an  intelligent  and  solidly  based  resolution,  he  sought  and 
obtained,  in  the  autumn  of  1825,  a  personal  interview  with  Mr. 
Townley,  formerly  a  missionary  in  Bengal,  and  Dr.  Morrison,  the 
celebrated  Chinese  missionary,  then  resident  in  London.  To  them 
he  openly  expressed  the  wish  he  had  for  some  time  fostered,  to  devote 
himself,   if  the  Lord  willed,  to  missionary  labours.     As  China,  on 


18  PREFATORY    NOTICE. 

account  of  its  magnitude  and  their  comparative  neglect  by  the 
Christian  world,  presented  the  strongest  claims  to  his  mind,  he 
looked  forward  to  it  as  his  probable  future  mission-field.  He, 
accordingly,  attended  Dr.  Morrison's  instructions  in  Chinese,  that 
he  might  gain  as  much  insight  into  "  the  mode  of  studying  the  lan- 
guage as  might  enable  him,  should  he  wish  to  pursue  it,  to  do  so 
alone."  And  his  biographer  testifies  that  the  papers  he  left  behind 
sufficiently  evinced  how  ardently  and  successfully  he  entered  into  the 
Btudy  of  that  difficult  language. 

Returning  with  his  friend  Mr.  Adam,  who  had  devoted  himself  to 
the  missionary  cause,  about  the  end  of  October,  to  St.  Andrew's,  they 
both  resolved  to  apply  themselves  afresh  to  their  general  studies,  and 
to  a  thorough  examination  of  everything  relating  to  missions.  For 
this  purpose,  they  searched  the  sacred  Scriptures,  and  summed  up 
their  inquiries  under  the  heads  o^ precepts,  prophecies,  examples,  and 
promises.  In  order  to  render  the  investigation  the  more  complete, 
they  also  resolved,  at  the  same  time,  to  collect  from  other  sources, 
all  the  accessible  information  on  the  interesting  subject.  In  this 
way  they  carefully  perused  Brown's  History  of  Missions,  Home's, 
Ward's,  Milne's,  and  Judson's  Letters ;  the  lives  of  Martyn,  Brainard, 
and  Chamberlain;  Ward's  History  of  the  Hindus,  &c.,  praying  more 
earnestly  than  ever  for  wisdom  and  direction  from  above. 

It  is  surely  not  possible  to  imagine  anything  more  enlightened  or 
judicious  than  the  preparatory  course  of  inquiry  thus  systematically 
pursued.  No  rashness,  flightiness,  impulsiveness,  flashy  enthusiasm, 
or  ephemeral  excitement  here  !  On  the  contrary,  all  is  characterized 
by  a  singular  calmness  and  sobriety  of  spirit,  comprehensiveness  of 
aim,  and  persevering  steadfastness  of  purpose,  the  clear  indications 
of  a  simple,  earnest,  honest,  conscientious  desire  to  ascertain  the 
divinely  prescribed  path  of  duty. 

And  what  was  the  result?  A  growing  conviction  of  the  para- 
mount claims  of  the  heathen  field,  and  of  the  duty  of  personal  en- 


PREFATORYNOTICE.  19 

gagcment  in  the  missionary  cause.  Accordingly,  as  he  had  been 
led  to  give  the  first  intimation  of  his  long  cherished  desire  on  the 
subject  to  his  friend  Mr.  Orme,  so,  on  the  10th  of  March,  1826,  he 
deemed  it  proper  to  convey  to  him  the  first  announcement  of  his 
Jinal  decision.  In  that  admirable  communication,  he  tells  how  Mr. 
Adam  and  himself  had  made  the  subject  of  missions  a  m.atter  of 
daily  consideration  throughout  the  session,  reading  nearly  all  the 
principal  works  relating  to  it;  how  he  had  thus  obtained  much 
sounder  views  of  the  matter  than  before  ;  how  the  brilliant  colouring 
of  romance,  if  it  previously  existed  in  any  degree,  had  faded  from 
the  picture,  only  leaving  its  outlines  more  strongly  and  broadly 
marked  than  before ;  how  he  was  distressed  by  the  prospect  of  those 
temptations  before  which  so  many  of  the  missionary  agents  had 
fallen,  and  yet,  how  he  felt  encouraged  to  trust  in  God  who  could 
enable  him  to  stand  in  the  midst  of  all  temptations ;  how  he  saw 
more  clearly  than  ever  that  unwavering  faith  in  God's  promises  and 
closeness  of  communion  with  him,  were  among  the  many  requisites 
in  the  character  of  the  missionary ;  how,  the  further  he  proceeded  in 
his  inquiries,  he  was  impressed  more  deeply  than  ever  with  the  duty 
of  engaging  in  this  department  of  the  ministerial  work ;  and  how, 
as  the  result  of  the  whole,  "  after  deliberately  viewing  all  sides  of  the 
question,  and  candidly  companng  the  claims  of  our  home  population 
and  the  heathen  world,  and  earnestly  seeking  for  direction  from  Him 
who  has  promised  to  be  the  guide  of  his  people  even  unto  death,  he  had 
come  to  the  final  resolution  of  devoting  himself  to  the  service  of  God 
among  the  heathen.^' 

His  first  public  announcement  of  this  final  resolution  was  made, 
about  the  same  time,  towards  the  close  of  his  concluding  address  to 
the  members  of  the  St.  Andrew's  University  Missionary  Society. 
It  was  in  these  terms  :  "  The  matter"  (of  personal  engagement) 
*'  some  time  ago  presented  itself  very  forcibly  to  my  own  mind,  and 
I  felt  that  it  at  least  demanded  my  serious  consideration.    As  I  have 


20  PREFATOKY    NOTICE. 

proceeded  with  my  inquiries  on  the  subject,  the  difficulties  seemed 
to  have  gathered  thicker  on  the  prospect,  but  the  convictions  of  duty 
have  grown  stronger  too.  The  arguments  for  personal  engagement 
seem  to  me  to  have  acquired  the  strength  of  a  demonstration.  I 
have,  therefore,  resolved,  with  the  help  of  God,  to  devote  my  life  to 
the  cause;  and  I  have  only  solemnly  to  charge  every  one  of  you  who 
are  looking  forward  to  the  ministry  of  Christ,  to  take  this  matter 
into  most  serious  consideration." 

The  writer  of  these  remarks  happened  to  be  present  when  these 
sentences  were  uttered,  and  he  can  testify  to  the  deep  and  solemn 
impression  which  they  produced.  It  was  not  that  they  displayed 
aught  of  the  artistic  in  style,  the  fascinating  in  rhetoric,  or  the 
brilliant  in  oratory.  Ah,  no.  In  themselves,  the  words  were 
abundantly  simple,  artless,  and  unendowed.  But  there  was,  not- 
withstanding, a  spell-like  charm  in  them  which  at  once  reached  the 
heart  and  caused  it  to  vibrate  to  the  innermost  core.  The  address 
was  on  the  subject  of  '*  personal  engagement  in  the  work  of  mis- 
sions." The  preacher  commenced  with  a  somewhat  abrupt  and 
hurried  intimation  which  instantaneously  aroused  and  arrested 
general  attention.  As  he  advanced,  step  by  step,  every  statement 
seemed  so  clear  and  strong  in  common  sense  —  every  illustration,  so 
apt  and  telling  —  every  address  to  the  head  and  heart,  so  backed  and 
fenced  round  and  round  by  scriptural  authority  —  and  all,  so  firmly 
clenched  by  that  consummating  announcement,  which  proved  beyond 
the  possibility  of  cavil  or  debate,  that  the  earnest  advocate  was  no 
mere  special  pleader  who  strove  to  influence  others  by  appeals  which 
had  failed  in  practically  convincing  himself — that  the  cumulative 
argument  seemed  to  bear  down  on  the  sincere  and  candid  mind  with 
a  force  all  but  resistless.  And  then,  there  was  something  so  touch- 
ing, so  melting  even,  in  that  youthful  expression  of  countenance, 
when  lighted  up  with  the  kindliness  of  an  unearthly  sanctity  —  some- 
thing so  piercingly  persuasive  in  those  suffused  eyes,  when  glow- 


PREFATORYNOTICE.  21 

ing  with  the  fire  of  wistful  longing  and  fervent  entreaty  —  something 
so  soul-thrilling  in  that  naturally  sweet,  soft,  mellow,  silvery  voice, 
when  quivering  with  the  pathos  of  out-gushing  emotion  from  a  sur- 
charged heart,  —  that  the  combined  effect  of  the  whole  might  well 
be  said  to  have  been  overwhelming.  For  a  moment,  it  appeared  as 
if  all  present  were  ready  to  rise  up  and  march  forth  as  a  united 
phalanx  into  the  battle-field;  and  few  there  were  who  did  not  then 
at  least  resolve  to  submit  the  subject  to  an  examination  with  which 
it  had  never  been  honoured  before ;  while  of  some,  it  can  be  added 
that  they  did  not  pause  till  they  found  themselves  across  oceans 
and  continents,  in  front  of  the  bristling  hosts  and  frowning  citadels 
of  heathenism. 

When  his  long  and  sore  soul-travail  had  thus  fairly  brought  his 
final  resolution  to  the  birth,  one  would  have  thought  that  it  would 
have  been  joyously  hailed,  with  general  acclaim,  by  the  friends  of 
Jesus.  But,  no.  Already,  while  merely  prosecuting  his  earnest 
researches  on  the  subject,  he  had  met  with  not  a  little  discourage- 
ment on  the  part  of  those  from  whom  he  had  good  reason  to  antici- 
pate a  different  reception.  And  now,  the  formal  announcement  of 
his  final  decision  seemed  only  to  be  the  signal  for  an  onset  of  more 
positive  and  determined  opposition.  But,  it  was  not  to  be  expected 
that  a  resolution  which  had  been  the  deliberate  result  of  so  much 
patient,  pains-taking  conscientious  inquiry  —  accompanied  with  so 
much  fervent  prayer  and  devout  waiting  upon  God  —  could  be  easily 
shaken.  It  was  not  like  Jonah's  gourd,  the  growth  of  a  day,  destined 
to  wither,  before  the  first  attack  of  an  insect  foe,  in  the  morning  of 
a  summer's  day.  It  rather  resembled  the  monarch  oak,  which,  slow 
in  growth,  gradually  attains  to  a  robustness  of  strength,  that  enables 
it  not  only  to  defy,  but  acquire  increased  tenacity  of  root  and  texture 
from  every  assailing  tempest.  The  result  abundantly  proved  that 
every  antagonistic  argument  and  appeal  only  recoiled  on  their 
authors,   with  a  quicker  and  yet  more  vehement  rebound,  —  thus 


22  PREFATORY    NOTICE. 

furnishing  fresh  and  incontestable  evidence  of  the  massive  solidity  — 
the  adamantine  firmness  of  the  basis  on  which  the  resolution  had 
been  founded. 

It  is,  therefore,  with  feelings  of  deepest  pain,  on  account  of  his 
friendly  but  misjudging  opponents,  and  intensest  admiration  of  the 
heavenly-minded  youth  —  in  whom  sage-like  wisdom  seemed  so 
rarely  blended  with  childlike  simplicity,  and  the  tenderest  sensi- 
bilities intertwined  with  the  stern,  heroic,  martyr-like  spirit  —  that 
we  find  so  many  entries  like  the  following,  in  his  subsequent  journals 
and  letters :  "  He"  (a  venerated  professor  whom  he  greatly  esteemed 
and  loved)  "  tries  to  persuade  me  to  stay  in  this  country,  but  I  do  not 
think  his  arguments  powerful."  "  I  have  been  in  Glasgow  twice.  I 
met  Mr.  Erskine  there  as  well  as  Mr.  Ewing,"  (colleague  of  Dr. 
Wardlaw  in  the  Theological  Seminary),  &c.  "All  are  against  my 
being  a  missionary;  but  I  have  heard  no  arguments  against  it  that 
seem  to  me  at  all  conclusive."  "  Have  you  been  thinking  more  of 
missions  ?  I  find  every  body  dissuades  and  discourages  me,  urging 
the  great  wants  of  our  own  country.  I  think  I  feel  the  claims  of 
our  own  land  as  strongly  as  some  who  urge  them  against  my  plans. 
But  still  this  does  not  prevent  me  from  feeling  the  immense  argu- 
mentative force  of  the  simple  fact,  that  nothing  has  yet  been  done 
for  heathen  nations,  proportioned  to  their  vast  extent;  and  nothing 
to  fulfil  the  wide  command  of  our  Lord."  *'  I  have  been  partly 
terrified  out  of  the  idea  of  attempting  publication,  from  the  decided 
opposition  our  sentiments  on  this  subject  have  met  with,  when  I 
have  laid  them  before  those  whom  I  have,  from  infancy,  looked  up 
to  as  men  mighty  in  the  Scriptures.  Do  not  mistake  me:  my  own 
convictions  are  by  no  means  weakened.  Every  prayer  deepens  their 
impression.  And  at  times  of  closer  communion  with  God,  a  brighter 
light  seems  to  be  shed  on  the  path  before  me.  My  own  conscience 
must  be  my  guide."  "On  the  subject  of  missions  every  prayer 
strengthens  my  purpose.     I  am  aware  of  the  glare  of  romance, 


PREFATORY    NOTICE.  23 

•which  fancy  may  throw  round  the  idea  of  Christian  expeditions  to 
foreign  lands  ;  but  I  have  tried  to  make  due  allowance  for  this ;  I 
have  prayed  that  a  youthful  imagination  might  not  lead  me  astray. 
The  result  is,  I  am  every  day  more  and  more  convinced  that  my 
convictions  on  this  matter  are  founded  in  Scripture."  "  On  con- 
sulting my  friends"  (parents  and  others,  when  on  a  visit  to  Perth) 
"  I  was  astonished  to  find  them  even  more  opposed  than  before. 
There  seemed  to  be  even  some  disappointment  that  I  had  not  by  this 
time,  abandoned  the  idea  of  being  a  missionary  altogether.  Had  the 
impulse  on  my  mind  been  a  mere  boyish  fancy,  in  all  probability 
this  would  have  been  the  case,  exposed  as  I  have  been  to  influences 
altogether  unfavourable.  But  I  trust  there  is  no  enthusiasm  in  sup- 
posing that  the  impression  has  been  made  by  the  Spirit  of  God,  when 
time,  and  meditation,  and  prayer  make  it  deeper  and  deeper.  Still, 
my  relations  are  quite  against  my  views." 

In  connection  M'ith  this  determined  and  continued  opposition  which 
he  had  to  encounter,  to  the  very  last,  from  Professors,  ministers, 
relatives  and  acquaintances,  Mr.  Orme  endeavours  to  present  a  plea, 
partly  apologetic,  and  partly  explanatory. 

One  of  the  dissuasive  arguments  frequently  adduced  —  rather  a 
favourite  one  with  fond  parents  and  doating  friends  —  was,  the 
alleged  weakness  and  delicacy  of  his  constitution.  But  apart  from 
the  grand  fact,  that  all  are  in  the  hands  of  a  gracious  and  sove- 
reign God,  who  can  preserve  the  weak,  though  exposed  to  the  greatest 
peril,  and  strike  down  the  strong,  though  placed  in  circumstances 
the  most  advantageous,  Urquhart  was  persuaded  of  the  soundness 
of  the  opinion  of  the  physician  whom  he  had  consulted,  coinciding 
as  it  did  with  that  of  the  most  experienced  on  the  subject:  "  That  no 
physician  could  predict  how  any  particular  constitution  would  suit  a 
hot  climate ;  and  that,  in  general,  persons  of  a  thin,  spare  Jiabit," 
(like  his  own),  "were  more  likely  to  stand  than  those  who  were 
stouter." 


24  PREFATORY    NOTICE. 

Another  of  the  redoubtable  and  stereotyped  arguments  with  which 
he  was  constantly  plied  —  the  favourite  one  with  Theological  Pro- 
fessors and  home  pastors,  who  yet,  at  times,  can  eloquently  declaim 
on  the  awful  spiritual  necessities  of  the  heathen,  and  the  ghjry  and 
grandeur  of  the  missionary  enterprise  —  was,  the  urgent  claims  of 
home ;  implying,  that  he  possessed  some  special  fitness,  from  the 
peculiarity  of  his  tastes  and  talents,  for  home  work.  Now,  the  real 
ftict  was,  as  stated  repeatedly  by  himself,  that  he  was  led,  in  the 
very  consideration  of  the  missionary  question,  to  regard  more  atten- 
tively the  state  of  his  own  country  as  to  religious  knowledge.  And 
no  one  can  carefully  and  candidly  read  the  many  communications  in 
which  the  subject  is  discussed  by  him,  without  perceiving  how  tho- 
roughly he  had  examined,  and  how  intelligently  he  had  appreciated 
the  claims  of  home ;  yea,  how  diligently  he  had  laboured,  as  time 
and  opportunity  were  afforded,  in  supplying  the  wants  of  home,  by 
teaching  Sabbath-schools,  collecting  young  men  around  him,  holding 
prayer  meetings  with  the  poor,  visiting  from  house  to  house,  distri- 
buting tracts ;  and  yet,  how  vastly,  in  the  case  of  one  like  himself, 
who  simply  strove  to  learn  loliere  the  Lord's  cause  had  most  need  of 
his  personal  services,  the  claims  of  the  heathen  were  felt  to  prepon- 
derate. 

But  a  truce  to  all  such  objections !  From  whatever  quarter  they 
proceed,  they  are  of  "  the  earth,  earthy."  Professors  of  religion, 
indolently  and  sinfully  suffer  themselves,  for  the  most  part,  to  be  so 
entrenched  in  antecedent  prejudices,  preferences,  and  predilections, 
that  their  minds  can  very  seldom  indeed  fairly  look  the  subject  in 
the  face.  Nay,  more  !  The  real  truth  is,  that  the  teeming  brood  of 
ordinary  objections  will  be  found  to  spring  from  a  deeper  source 
than  any  that  appears  on  the  surface,  or  any  that  is  usually  avowed. 
The  saddening  and  discreditable  fact  ought  not  to  be  glozed  over  or 
disguised,  from  the  cowardly  fear  of  offending  man  —  however  lofty 
in  talent,  station,  or  influence  ;  or  however  endeared  by  ties  of  earthly 


PREFATORY    NOTICE.  25 

relationsliip  —  that  there  is,   in  the  minds  even  of  most  of  the 
friends  and  supporters  of  missions,  a  thoroughly  inadequate  appre- 
hension of  two  most  vital  gospel  requirements  :  —  First,  a  thoroughly 
inadequate  apprehension  of  the  real  nature  and  extent  of  the  self- 
sacrifice,  -which  the  gospel  demands  of  all  true  believers ;  though  such 
self-sacrifice  be  not  a  super-eminent  grace,  expected  to  belong  only 
to  a  chosen  few  of  transcendent  piety,  but  one  of  the  primary  con- 
stituent elements  of  the   Christian   character  —  the  destitution   of 
"which  would  argue  not  so  much  weakness  of  faith,  as  the  non-exist- 
ence of  genuine  faith  altogether: — and  secondly,   as  thoroughly 
inadequate  an  apprehension  of  the  real  nature  and  magnitude  of  the 
missionary  enterprise,  and  of  the  pecidiar  claims  of  heathen  nations, 
viewed  in  the  light  of  Scripture  propliecy  and  divhie  commands,  as 
compared  with  those  which,  for  ages,  have  enjoyed  the  blessed  dis- 
pensation of  the  gospel.     Hence  it  is,  that,  too  often,  even  pious  pro- 
fessors and  ministers  would  begrudge  young  men,  that  are  rarely 
gifted  by  nature  and  grace,  to  the  heathen  world ;  as  if  the  conduct 
of  a  great  war  in  the  territory  of  a  powerful  foe  demanded  less 
talent,  genius,  or  energy,  than  the  commandership  of  a  peaceful  gar- 
rison in  one's  native  land ;  or,  as  if  the  procedure  which  God  himself 
exemplified  in   separating   Paul   and   Barnabas,  the  mightiest   of 
apostles  and  apostolic  men,  from  the  great  and  flourishing  Church 
of  Antioch,  to  become  his  ambassadors  to  the  realms  of  heathenism, 
constituted  no  precedent,  and  challenged  no  imitation  !     And  hence, 
also,  it  is,  that,  too  often,  even  godly  parents  would  begrudge  a 
beloved  son  to  the  glorious  work  of  proclaiming  the  unsearchable 
riches  of  Christ  among  the  Gentiles  ;  as  if  he  were  tTieir  own,  and  not 
Mis,  whose  claims,  as  Creator,  Preserver,  and  Kedeemer,  are  alto- 
gether paramount;  or,  as  if  the  divine  declaration,  "that  God  so 
loved  the  world  that  he  gave  his  only  begotten  Son,  that  whosoever 
believeth  on  him  should  not  perish,  but  have  everlasting  life,"  con- 
stituted no  example,  and  imposed  no  practical  obligation ! 
3 


26  PREFATOKY    NOTICE. 

How  far  the  painful  and  harassing  course  of  dissuasion  and  resist- 
ance, so  obstinately  and  unyieldingly  persisted  in  by  parents, 
acquaintances,  and  friends,  may  have  acted  on  Urquhart's  keenly 
sensitive  nature,  so  as  injuriously  to  affect  his  bodily  health  and 
help  to  precipitate  a  fatal  issue,  it  were  vain  for  us  now  to  surmise. 
On  this  extremely  delicate  point,  every  reader  of  the  narrative  must 
be  left  to  judge  for  himself.  One  thing  is  certain,  that,  up  to  the 
very  last,  his  own  mind  remained  firm  and  unshaken  as  the  iron 
rocks  amid  the  ceaseless  buffetings  of  old  ocean.  The  last  entry 
in  his  journal,  referring  to  the  commencement  of  the  attack  which 
soon  terminated  his  earthly  career,  very  touchingly  shows,  as  his 
biographer  has  well  remarked,  how  the  ruling  passion  —  his  devoted 
attachment  to  personal  service  in  the  missionary  cause  —  appeared 
strong  in  death.  After  recording  the  doctor's  professional  verdict, 
he  remarks :  "  This  has  distressed  me  a  good  deal,  as  it  may  unjit 
me  for  the  East;  which  I  have  long  contemplated  as  the  scene  of  my 
labours.     But  the  Lord  knows  what  is  best." 

Verily,  the  good  and  the  gracious  Lord  did  know  what  was  best; 
and  He  now  began  visibly  to  take  the  whole  matter  into  his  own 
hands.  He  who  knows  the  heart,  well  knew  how  sincerely  and 
devoutly  it  was  in  the  heart  of  the  youthful  Urquhart  personally  to 
labour  in  the  distant  fields  of  heathen  evangelism.  And,  doubtless, 
the  approving  sentence,  that  it  was  good  to  have  cherished  such  a 
purpose  in  his  heart,  has  been  duly  registered  in  the  book  of  the 
Divine  remembrance.  But,  as  endless  obstacles  were  interposed  in 
his  way,  by  parents  and  friends  on  earth,  the  Lord  was  pleased,  in 
his  sovereignty,  to  decide  the  question,  by  taking  him  to  himself! 
They  would  not  consent  to  his  serving  his  divine  Master  in  foreign 
climes  below ;  and  so,  he  transferred  him  to  a  nobler  service  in  the 
climes  above!  They  would  not  consent  to  his  leaving  home  and 
fatherland,  on  an  embassy  of  mercy  to  perishing  millions ;  and  so, 
in  loving-kindness  to  him  and  in  rebuke  to  them,  the  Lord  ordained 


PREFATORY    NOTICE.  27 

that  -what  they  would  not  willingly  suffer  him  to  attempt  by  his  life, 
lie  would  honour  and  enable  him  to  accomplish  more  effectually  by 
his  early  death  I  It  is  known  that,  already,  the  perusal  of  this 
memoir  has  been  sanctified  as  the  means  of  quickening  the  desire  of 
some,  and  confirming  the  timid  resolve  of  others,  to  go  forth  as  the 
heralds  of  salvation  to  the  unevangelized  tribes  of  earth.  These, 
then,  may  truly  be  regarded  as  his  substitutes  and  representatives 
in  the  heathen  world,  which  he  had  so  longed  to  visit  and  help  to  save. 
And  souls  rescued  by  their  instrumentality  from  the  bondage  of  sin 
and  Satan,  may  yet  hail  him  in  the  realms  of  everlasting  day,  as,  in 
an  important  sense,  their  honoured  spiritual  progenitor. 

Kecommending,  therefore,  this  volume,  with  all  earnestness,  to  the 
members,  and  especially  the  juvenile  members,  of  the  evangelic 
churches  of  America,  my  fervent  prayer  is,  that  the  lessons  which  it 
is  so  well  fitted  to  teach,  may  not  be  lost  on  old  or  young,  —  that  the 
perusal  of  it  may,  under  God,  be  blessed  to  the  stimulating  of  their 
souls  to  holier  and  more  self-denying  endeavours  for  the  advance- 
ment of  Christ's  cause  and  kingdom  in  the  world  —  that  the  mantle 
of  the  saintly,  devoted,  and  now  glorified  Urquhart  may  fall  on  not 
a  few  youthful,  ardent  disciples,  who,  imbued  with  a  double  portion 
of  his  spirit,  may  be  privileged  to  rear  the  standard  of  the  cross 
over  many  a  hitherto  unconquered  province  of  Satan's  empire. 

ALEXANDER  DUFF. 

March,  1855. 


PKEFACE  TO  THE  FIKST  EDITION 

BY   THE   REV.    WM.   ORME. 


I  HAD  scarcely  received  the  mtimation,  alike  unexpected  and  dis- 
tressing, of  the  death  of  my  beloved  young  friend,  when  I  was  impor- 
tunately solicited  to  give  some  account  of  him  to  the  world.  The 
reasons  for  making  this  application  to  me,  will  be  sufficiently  apparent 
to  the  reader  of  the  volume,  so  that  no  explanation  on  that  point  is 
required  in  this  place.  Prompted  at  once  by  my  love  for  the  indi- 
vidual, and  by  a  sense  of  duty  to  God,  whose  grace  and  goodness 
"were  eminently  illustrated,  I  assented  to  the  request,  before  I  knew 
what  it  would  involve.  I  had  then  no  correct  idea  of  the  nature  of 
the  materials  which  existed,  and  supposed  that  a  very  small  number 
of  pages  might  include  all  that  I  could  furnish  of  sufficient  interest. 
No  sooner,  however,  was  my  purpose  made  known,  than,  besides 
the  papers  left  by  himself,  which  were  more  numerous  and  valuable 
than  I  had  supposed,  his  friends  and  fellow-students  poured  in  upon 
me  such  a  number  of  letters  and  communications,  that  I  have  found 
great  difficulty  in  keeping  my  selection  even  within  the  bounds  to 
which  the  work  has  finally  extended. 

The  individuals  who  have  thus  supplied  some  of  the  most  valuable 
parts  of  the  volume,  and  have  contended  who  should  bear  the  most 
decided  testimony  to  the  character  and  talents  of  him  whom  "they 
admired  when  living,  and  adored  when  lost,''  though  occasionally 
mentioned,  in  connection  with  the  correspondence,  will,  I  am  sure, 
experience  some  gratification,  in  having  their  names  more  distinctly 
connected  with  this  memorial  of  their  departed  friend.  It  is  due 
from  me  to  say,  that  without  their  aid,  I  must  have  failed  in  doing 
justice  to  his  character  and  history.  It  is  due  from  the  readers  of 
this  volume,  if  they  shall  experience  any  gratification  from  those 
letters,  which,  I  consider,  to  be  no  less  beautiful  as  compositions, 
3*  (29) 


30  PREFACE. 

than  they  are  admirable  in  sentiment.  And  it  is  especially  due  to 
that  sacred  and  Christian  friendship,  which  subsisted  between  them 
and  him  who  has  gone  to  receive  an  early,  but  a  full  reward.  I 
earnestly  pray,  that  the  band  of  youthful  spirits,  united  at  St. 
Andrew's,  may,  "when  the  dispersed  of  Israel  are  gathered  into 
one,"  be  again  united,  to  rejoice  together  in  the  fruits  of  their  sacred 
association. 

The  following  are  entitled  to  an  honourable  place  in  this  statement: 
—  Mr.  John  Adam  of  Homerton,  between  whom  and  the  deceased 
there  was  a  solemn  agreement  to  labour  together  among  the  heathen, 
should  Providence  permit.  Mr.  Alexander  Duff,  still,  I  believe, 
a  student,  the  earliest  friend  of  John,  at  the  University.  Mr.  William 
Alexander,  his  latest  companion  while  there,  and  who  is  still  prose- 
cuting his  studies  with  a  view  to  the  Christian  ministry.  Mr.  Henry 
Craik,  now  at  Exeter,  between  whom  and  John,  a  most  powerful 
attachment  appears  to  have  subsisted,  which  rendered  his  death 
almost  overwhelming.  Mr.  William  Tait,  son  of  the  Rev.  William 
Tait,  of  the  College  Church,  Edinburgh.  Mr.  William  Scott  Mon- 
crieff,  of  Edinburgh;  Mr.  Herbert  Smith,  of  Egham,  Surrey;  Mr. 
James  Lewis,  Mr.  Alexander  Reid,  and  Mr.  Robert  Trail. 

To  other  individuals,  besides  these,  I  have  also  been  indebted  for 
some  valuable  contributions ;  but  whose  names,  I  could  not,  with 
propriety,  mention.  They  will  accept  of  my  affectionate  acknow- 
ledgments for  the  readiness  with  which  they  allowed  me  the  use  of 
the  letters  which  I  have  published. 

Besides  those  testimonies,  which  I  have  used  throughout  the  work, 
both  to  support  my  own  opinion  of  the  talents  and  character  of  the 
deceased,  and  to  illustrate  the  points  of  view  in  which  they  were 
contemplated  by  others,  there  is  one,  which  is  entitled  to  a  distin- 
guished place  in  this  memorial.  Knowing  that  John  had  been  a 
favourite  pupil  of  Dr.  Chalmers  ;  and  that,  between  the  Doctor  and 
him,  a  very  intimate  friendship  had  obtained,  before  I  did  anything 
myself,  I  wrote  to  Dr.  Chalmers  to  inquire  if  he  could  undertake 
the  oflfice  of  biographer,  and  offering  him,  in  that  case,  all  the  infor- 
mation and  documents  I  possessed.  In  answer  to  this,  I  received 
the  following  letter,  which  confers  a  high  value  on  the  work  that 
contains  it,  and  shows  the  estimate  which  was  formed  of  this  admir- 
able youth,  by  one  of  the  most  eminent  men  of  the  age. 


PREFACE.  31 

"  St.  Andrew's,  Feb.  12tJi,  1827. 

"  Jfy  Dear  Sir — I  received  your  letter  some  days  ago,  but  have 
"been  prevented,  by  various  engagements,  from  replying  to  it  so  soon 
as  I  could  have  wished. 

"  I  had  been  previously  applied  to,  from  another  quarter,  for  a 
Memoir  of  John  Urquhart ;  and  felt  myself  obliged  to  decline,  in 
consequence  of  other  engagements.  I  have  less  difficulty  in  pleading 
the  same  apology  to  you ;  for  your  superior  opportunities,  and  earlier 
acquaintance  with  him,  point  you  out  as  the  person  on  whom  tho 
task  is  most  properly  devolved. 

"  He  is  altogether  worthy  of  the  biographical  notice  which  you 
purpose.  My  first  knowledge  of  him,  was  as  a  student,  in  which 
capacity,  he  far  outpeered  all  his  fellows ;  and  in  a  class  of  uncom- 
mon force,  and  brilliancy  of  talent,  shone  forth  as  a  star  of  the  first 
magnitude. 

"  I  do  not  recollect  the  subjects  of  his  various  essays ;  but  the 
very  first  which  he  read  in  the  hearing  of  myself,  and  of  his  fellow- 
students,  placed  him  at  the  head  of  the  class  in  point  of  estimation : 
a  station,  which  he  supported  throughout,  and  which  was  fully 
authenticated  at  the  last,  by  the  highest  prize  being  assigned  to  him 
for  those  anonymous  compositions,  which  are  submitted  to  my  own 
judgment,  and  among  which,  I  decide  the  relative,  and  respective 
merits,  without  any  knowledge  of  their  authors. 
\  "  For  several  months,  I  only  recognised  him  as  a  person  of  fine 
taste,  and  lofty  intellect ;  which,  teeming  forth,  as  they  did  from  one 
who  had  not  yet  terminated  his  boyhood,  gave  the  indication,  and 
the  promise,  of  something  quite  superlative  in  future  life.  It  was 
not  till  after  I  had,  for  a  time,  admired  his  capacities  for  science, 
that  I  knew  him  as  the  object  of  a  far  higher  admiration,  for  his 
deep  and  devoted  sacredness. 

'*  It  was  in  the  second  session  of  my  acquaintance  with  him,  that 
I  devolved  upon  him  the  care  of  a  Sabbath-school,  which  I  had 
formed.  In  the  conduct  of  this  little  seminary,  he  displayed  a  tact, 
and  a  talent,  which  were  quite  admirable,  and  I  felt  myself  far  out- 
run by  him,  in  the  power  of  kind  and  impressive  communication  ; 
and  in  that  faculty,  by  which  he  commanded  the  interest  of  the 
pupils,  and  could  gain,  at  all  times,  the  entire  sympathy  of  their 
understanding.    Indeed,  all  his  endowments,  whether  of  the  head  or 


82  PREFACE. 

of  the  heart,  "vrere  in  the  best  possible  keeping.  For  example,  he 
was  alike  literary  and  mathematical,  and  combined  the  utmost 
beauty  of  composition,  with  the  rigour  and  precision  of  the  exact 
sciences.  But  his  crowning  excellence  was  his  piety ;  that  virtue, 
which  matured  him  so  early  for  heaven,  and  bore  him  in  triumph 
from  that  earth  on  which  he  hath  so  briefly  sojourned.  This  religious 
spirit  gave  a  certain  ethereal  hue  to  all  his  college  exhibitions.  He 
had  the  amplitude  of  genius,  but  none  of  its  irregularities.  There 
was  no  shooting  forth  of  mind  in  one  direction,  so  as  to  give  a  promi- 
nency to  certain  acquisitions,  by  which  to  overshadow,  or  to  leave 
behind,  the  other  acquisitions,  of  his  educational  course.  He  was 
neither  a  mere  geometer,  nor  a  mere  linguist,  nor  a  mere  meta- 
physician ;  he  was  all  put  together ;  alike  distinguished  by  the  ful- 
ness, and  the  harmony  of  his  powers. 

"  I  leave  to  you,  sir,  the  narrative  of  his  higher  characteristics.  I 
have  spoken,  and  fully  spoken,  of  the  attainments  of  his  philosophy ; 
to  you  it  belongs,  to  speak  of  the  sublimer  attainments  of  his  faith. 

"  Had  I  needed  aught  to  reconcile  me  to  the  transition  which  I 
have  made,  from  the  state  of  a  pastor  to  that  of  a  professor,  it  would 
just  be  the  successive  presentation,  year  after  year,  of  such  students 
as  John  Urquhart ;  nor,  in  giving  up  the  direct  work  of  a  Christian 
minister,  can  I  regret  the  station  to  which  Providence  has  trans- 
lated me,  at  one  of  the  fountain  heads  of  the  Christian  ministry  in 
our  land. 

"  Yours,  very  truly, 

"  THOMAS  CHALMERS." 


MEMOIR 


JOHN   UEUUHART 


CHAPTER  I. 

Introductory  observations  —  John^s  birth,  and  early  education  — 
John  sent  to  the  Grammar  School  of  Perth  —  Mr.  Duff's  account 
of  him  while  there. 

BiOGEAPHY  is  not  dependent  for  its  usefulness  on  the 
length  of  an  individual's  life,  or  on  the  station  which  he 
occupies  in  society.  Were  this  the  case,  the  longest 
livers,  or  the  most  dignified  personages  would  constitute 
the  chief  subjects  of  this  species  of  writing.  But  so  far 
is  this  from  being  the  fact,  that  the  great  body  of  those 
"who  live  to  advanced  years,  and  occupy  the  high  places 
of  the  earth,  pass  out  of  it  with  little  more  than  an  ante- 
diluvian notice,  —  "  They  lived,  begat  sons  and  daughters, 
and  died." 

Such  a  record  is  all  that  the  vast  majority  of  these  per- 
sons deserve.  They  live  for  time,  and  they  live  for  them- 
selves. In  their  characters  none  of  the  elements  of  an 
enlarged  and  immortal  benevolence  exist.  To  the  present 
state  of  being,  all  their  views  and  wishes  are  limited, 
and  with  the  objects  which  minister  to  their  own  gratifi- 
cation, they  are  almost  entirely  engrossed.     When  they 

have  finished  theii-  day,  therefore,  they  have  obtained, 

(33) 


84  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHAET. 

such  as  it  is,  their  reward.  As  while  they  lived,  the  world 
was  nothing  to  them,  except  as  it  conferred  enjoyment ; 
so  when  they  die,  they  are  nothing  to  the  world,  which  in 
their  death  has  sustained  no  loss.  The  blanks  which  such 
deaths  occasion  are  quickly  filled  up.  The  candidates  for 
the  pleasures  and  honours  of  the  earth  are  innumerable : 
and  they  are  generally  too  busy  in  attending  to  themselves, 
to  think  much  of  their  predecessors,  or  to  derive  either 
warning  or  improvement  from  their  fate. 

It  is  admitted  that  the  lives  of  such  persons  will  fre- 
quently supply  a  large  portion  of  what  is  called  incident, 
which  is  too  generally  regarded  as  the  principal  charm  of 
biography.  In  proportion  to  the  number  of  extraordinary 
events,  unlooked-for  occurrences,  and  strange  combina- 
tions, is  supposed  to  be  the  value  of  the  memoirs  or  the 
life ;  while  all  the  while  the  events  illustrate  no  principle, 
develop  no  specific  class  of  causes,  and  furnish  little  or 
no  instruction  to  the  reader.  They  appear  as  if  they  were 
stuck  upon  the  subject,  instead  of  growing  out  of  his  charac- 
ter, and  might,  for  anything  we  can  see,  as  well  belong  to 
a  hundred  other  persons,  as  to  the  hero  of  the  story. 

The  life  of  the  most  interesting  person  whom  this  world 
has  produced,  whose  actions  were  entirely  directed  to  the 
affairs  of  the  world,  and  whose  training  had  little  bearing 
on  the  enjoyment  and  occupations  of  a  better  state,  must 
be  of  less  importance  than  the  life  of  the  least  individual 
in  the  kingdom  of  heaven.  In  the  former  case,  the  results, 
as  far  as  the  person  himself  is  concerned,  terminate  with 
time ;  in  the  latter,  they  embrace  eternity.  Here  the 
germs  of  an  immortal  existence  are  planted  ;  here  the  roots 
are  struck,  of  that  tree  of  life  which  is  destined  to  fill  the 
celestial  paradise  with  its  sweetest  and  most  fragrant  fruits ; 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART.  35 

here  the  first  elements  of  the  heavenly  sciences  are  learned ; 
and  here  commence  those  dispositions  and  habits  which 
shall  grow  to  perfection  in  the  courts  of  the  Lord. 

The  writer  of  the  following  pages  has  no  romantic  tale 
to  tell ;  but  he  regards  it  as  one  of  some  interest,  or  he 
would  not  tell  it.  It  will  be  found  to  contain  nothing 
of  the  poetry  or  fiction  of  religion,  which  are  so  eagerly 
sought  by  the  sickly  sentimentalists  of  the  age.  It  records 
none  of  those  splendid  acts  of  religious  heroism,  the  exter- 
nal glory  of  which  the  men  of  the  world  are  sometimes 
disposed  to  admire,  while  they  hate  the  principles  which 
produce  them.  His  aim  is  to  present  a  faithful,  though 
he  is  conscious  it  is  only  an  imperfect,  portrait,  of  one 
dear  to  himself  by  many  recollections  ;  whose  mind  was 
cast  in  one  of  nature's  finest  moulds,  and  highly  polished, 
not  by  art  and  man's  device  only,  but  by  the  Spirit  of  the 
living  God  ;  whose  character  rose  to  maturity  more  rapidly 
than  that  of  any  individual  he  ever  knew,  and  who  lived 
as  much  in  a  short  time,  as  most  who  have  been  hon 
cured  to  adorn  the  doctrine  of  the  Redeemer.  Should  the 
simple  story  of  his  short  pilgrimage  enforce  on  the  minds 
of  his  youthful  associates,  the  importance  of  cultivating 
his  virtues  and  following  his  example ;  and  lead  others  to 
examine  the  nature  of  that  religion  which  was  the  object 
of  such  devotion  to  a  mind  of  no  ordinary  vigour  and 
acuteness,  great  wdll  be  the  reward.  In  tliat  case,  it 
may  at  last  appear  that  John  Urquhart  lived  not  in  vain ; 
and  that  the  time  spent  in  recording  his  history  has  not 
been  unprofitably  employed. 

The  subject  of  these  memoirs  was  born  in  the  town  of 
Perth,  on  the  seventh  of  June,  1808.     As  his  parents  are 


^6  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    UEQUHART. 

both  alive,  it  would  be  indecorous  to  say  mucli  more  than 
that,  professing  the  faith  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  they 
felt  the  importance  of  devoting  their  offspring  to  him,  and 
of  bringing  them  up  in  the  nurture  and  admonition  of  the 
Lord.  To  his  mother  in  particular  he  was  indebted  for 
his  earliest  ideas  and  impressions ;  and  of  her  tenderness 
and  attention  to  him,  he  retained,  as  will  afterwards 
appear  from  his  letters,  the  liveliest  and  most  grateful 
recollections. 

From  the  extraordinary  quickness  and  precocity  which 
distinguished  him,  more  than  usual  encouragement  must 
have  been  presented  to  instil  into  his  mind  the  elements 
of  knowledge  and  religion ;  and  I  have  reason  to  believe 
that  advantage  was  duly  taken  of  his  docile  and  inquisi- 
tive disposition,  to  direct  his  attention  to  the  most  inter- 
esting of  all  subjects.  It  is  not  often  that  we  can  trace 
the  impressions  of  childhood  in  the  future  habits  and 
character  of  the  man.  They  are  made  during  a  period  in 
which  the  mind  is  inattentive  to  its  own  operations,  and 
unconscious  of  the  nature  of  the  process  which  it  is  under- 
going. The  effects  remain  after  the  cause  which  produced 
them  is  forgotten.  The  writing  upon  the  heart  often  be- 
comes legible,  only  when  the  hand  which  traced  it  is 
mouldering  in  the  dust ;  and  the  prayers  which  have  been 
frequently  breathed  over  the  cradle  of  infancy,  sometimes 
do  not  appear  to  have  been  heard,  till  after  prayer  has 
been  exchanged  for  praise.  These  considerations,  as  well 
as  the  appropriate  promises  of  the  word  of  God,  ought  to 
induce  Christian  parents  to  commence  their  work  of  in- 
struction with  the  first  dawn  of  intelligence,  and  not  to  be 
dispirited  because  they  do  not  soon  reap  a  visible  harvest 
of  success.     To  this,  as  to  other  departments  of  service, 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART.  37 

the  language  of  inspiration  is  applicable  :  ^'  In  the  morn- 
ing, sow  thy  seed,  and  in  the  evening,  withhold  not  thy 
hand :  for  thou  knowest  not  whether  shall  prosper,  either 
this  or  that,  or  whether  they  both  shall  be  alike  good." 

At  five  years  of  age  he  went  to  school,  and,  from  having 
a  remarkably  sweet  and  melodious  voice,  soon  became  an 
object  of  interest  as  one  of  the  finest  readers  among  his 
juvenile  associates.  Shortly  after,  also,  he  was  sent  to  a 
Sabbath  evening-school,  there  to  receive  instruction  of  a 
more  strictly  religious  nature  than  can  be  communicated  in 
the  seminaries  of  every  day  instruction.  At  this  school  he 
remained,  I  believe,  with  occasional  interruptions,  till  a 
short  time  before  he  went  to  the  University. 

My  young  friend  was  indebted  to  Sabbath-school  in- 
struction, in  a  degree  which  cannot  be  fully  ascertained  or 
known  in  this  world.  There  his  mind  was  richly  stored 
with  divine  truth,  the  full  benefit  of  which  did  not  appear 
at  the  time,  but  afterwards,  in  the  rapidity  with  which  he 
grew  in  knowledge  after  he  felt  the  full  power  of  the  gos- 
pel. There  those  principles  were  implanted  and  strength- 
ened, which  tended  to  preserve  him  when  he  was  exposed, 
an  unguarded  boy,  to  the  imminent  temptations  of  a  Uni- 
versity. There  those  moral  feelings  were  first  touched, 
which,  in  due  time,  arrived  at  that  degree  of  sensitiveness, 
as  to  be  incapable  of  bearing  what  was  evil,  and  of  relish- 
ing, in  the  most  exquisite  manner,  all  that  was  lovely, 
and  pure,  and  excellent. 

From  the  English  school,  he  passed,  in  his  ninth  year, 
into  the  Grammar  school,  then  conducted  by  a  respectable 
scholar,  Mr.  Dick,  under  whose  care,  and  that  of  his  suc- 
cessor, Mr.  Moncur,  he  remained  four  years.  I  have  little 
to  remark  during  this  period  of  his  life ;  but  that  he  made 
4 


88  MEMOIR    OP    JOHN    URQUHART. 

distlnguislied  progress  in  acquaintance  with  the  classics  is 
evident  from  the  prizes  which  he  obtained,  and  from  the 
appearance,  which  he  made  when  he  first  entered  St.  An- 
drew's, of  which  notice  will  afterwards  be  taken. 

I  am  not  aware  of  all  the  prizes  which  he  gained  during 
the  time  of  his  attending  the  Grammar  school ;  but,  in 
1820,  he  obtained  the  second  prize  at  the  fourth  class ; 
and  in  the  following  year,  the  last  of  his  attendance,  the 
second  prize  at  the  first  class. 

When  it  is  remembered,  that  he  was  only  thirteen  years 
of  age  when  he  left  school,  it  will  not  appear  surprising, 
notwithstanding  his  future  eminence,  that  I  have  nothing 
of  sufiicient  importance  to  mention  during  this  period  of 
his  life.  He  was  remarkably  lively  and  good  tempered, 
when  a  boy;  and  enjoyed,  I  believe,  the  general  good-will 
and  affection  of  his  school-fellows.  As  he  acquired  every- 
thing with  great  facility,  study  was  in  general  no  labour  to 
him.  But  during  the  last  part  of  his  attendance  on  Mr. 
Moncur's  classes,  he  was  very  diligent ;  as  he  frequently 
rose  at  four  or  five  o'clock  in  the  morning,  to  prepare  the 
lesson  for  the  day.  I  forget  how  many  books  of  Virgil  he 
professed,  besides  other  things,  at  the  last  examination ; 
but  I  know  the  number  was  considerable.  Though  the 
ardour,  or  rather  enthusiasm,  of  Mr.  Moncur,  in  inspiring 
his  pupils  with  the  loftiest  ambition  of  classical  eminence, 
was  extraordinary,  and  the  effects  of  it,  on  the  students, 
wonderful,  John  acquitted  himself  so  well,  that  he  carried 
off  the  second  prize.  The  best  account  I  can  give  of  his 
progress,  and  of  the  esteem  in  which  he  was  held  by  those 
who  knew  him,  at  this  time,  has  been  furnished  me  by  his 
intimate  friend,  Mr.  Alexander  Duff,  who  was  his  associate 
in  study  for  several  years,  in  Perth,  and  during  all  the 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART.  39 

time  lie  spent  at  St.  Andrew's.  It  confirms  my  own  state- 
ment, which  was  written  previously  to  receiving  it.  He 
wi'ites  me  as  follows  :  — 

"  I  first  became  acquainted  with  John  Urquhart  in  the 
year  1820,  at  the  Grammar  school  of  Perth.  Early  in  the 
year  1821,  I  entered  into  habits  of  the  most  intimate 
friendship  with  him,  and  scarcely  a  day  passed  without 
our  being  in  each  other's  company  for  several  hours,  till 
the  vacation  of  the  school  in  the  end  of  July.  We  gene- 
rally prepared  our  lessons  together ;  and  thus,  I  had  full 
opportunity  of  marking  the  dawn  of  that  intellectual  supe- 
riority which  he  afterwards  exhibited.  With  almost  intui- 
tive perception  could  he  discern  the  truth  of  many  a 
proposition,  which,  to  an  ordinary  mind,  is  the  result  of 
painful  and  laborious  investigation.  And  finely  could  he 
discriminate  between  the  truth  and  falsehood  of  many  a 
statement  which  was  embellished  with  all  the  alluring 
drapery  of  a  poet's  fancy.  With  singular  acuteness  could 
he  estimate  the  real  weight  and  value  of  an  argument :  and 
with  an  ease  and  readiness,  far  beyond  ordinary,  could  he 
unravel  the  intricacies  and  discover  the  true  meaning  of 
a  difficult  and  disputed  passage  in  the  classics.  The  in- 
genuity of  some  of  his  conjectures  regarding  the  import 
of  a  sentence,  and  the  derivation  of  certain  words,  was, 
I  distinctly  remember,  highly  applauded  by  his  teacher. 
With  a  mind  thus  richly  endowed  by  nature,  he  prose- 
cuted his  classical  studies  with  the  greatest  fervour  and 
perseverance  ;  and  though  far  inferior  to  the  majority  of 
his  class-fellows  in  years,  he  uniformly  appeared  among 
the  foremost  in  the  race  of  distinction.  During  the  sum- 
mer of  1821,  he  was  singularly  active.    For  the  most  part, 


40  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

he  rose  every  morning  between  three  and  four  o'clock,  and 
directly  issued  forth  to  enjoy  its  sweets.  And  should  you, 
at  any  time,  during  the  course  of  the  morning,  cast  your 
eyes  along  that  beautiful  extensive  green,  the  North  Inch 
of  Perth,  you  could  not  fail  to  observe,  in  the  distance, 
this  interesting  youth  moving  along  the  surface  like  a 
shadow  wholly  unbound  to  it ;  sometimes  in  the  attitude 
of  deepest  meditation,  and  sometimes  perusing  the  strains 
of  the  Mantuan  bard,  which  afforded  him  peculiar  pleasure. 
Some  of  the  fruits  of  these  early  perambulations,  when 
most  of  his  school-mates  were  enjoying  the  slumbers  of 
repose,  appeared  in  his  having  committed  entirely  to 
memory,  four  of  the  largest  books  of  the  -3Eneid.  He  was 
highly  esteemed  by  all  who  attended  the  school.  For, 
while  his  superior  intellectual  attainments  commanded 
their  admiration,  that  amiable  simplicity  and  guileless  in- 
nocence, which  formed  such  predominating  features  in  his 
character,  necessarily  commanded  their  love.  You  never 
heard  him  utter  a  harsh  or  unbecoming  expression ;  you 
never  saw  him  break  forth  into  violent  passion ;  you  never 
had  to  reprove  him  for  associating  with  bad  companions, 
nor  for  engaging  in  improper  amusements.  In  every 
innocent  pastime  for  promoting  the  health,  in  every  play- 
ful expedient  for  whetting  the  mental  powers,  none  more 
active  than  he :  but  in  all  the  little  brawls  and  turmoils 
that  usually  agitate  youthful  associations,  there  was  one 
whom  you  might  safely  reckon  upon  not  having  any  share. 
And  yet,  with  all  his  talents,  and  amiableness,  and  sim- 
plicity, I  cannot  venture  positively  to  affirm,  that  there 
appeared,  at  that  time,  anything  like  a  decided  appearance 
of  vital  Christianity  in  the  heart.  One  thing  I  can  affirm, 
that,  in  our  daily  and  long-continued  conversations,  reli- 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART.  41 

gious  topics  did  not  form  a  considerable,  or  rather,  any 
part  of  them.  The  love  of  what  was  good,  and  abhorrence 
of  what  was  evil,  had  been  so  habitually  inculcated  from 
childhood,  that  the  cherishing  of  these  feelings  might  seem 
to  have  acquired  the  strength  of  a  constitutional  tendency ; 
and  the  abandonment  of  them  would  have  been  like  the 
violent  breaking  up  of  an  established  habit ;  still  at  this 
very  time,  the  hand  of  God  might  have  been  silently, 
though  eJQ&caciously  working.  It  is  not  for  us  to  decide 
on  those  secret  things  that  belong  to  the  Lord.  But,  at 
whatever  period  the  life  of  faith  truly  commenced,  I  be- 
lieve it  to  be  the  fact,  that  his  progress  in  it  was  so 
gradual  and  imperceptible  as  to  elude  observation."  ^ 

Being  still  too  young  to  be  trusted  alone  at  a  University, 
and  at  a  distance  from  his  father's  house,  it  became  a 
question,  how  to  dispose  of  his  time  for  at  least  a  year 
longer.  After  consulting  with  other  friends  and  myself, 
his  father  determined  on  sending  him  to  the  Perth  Academy 
for  one  session.  Here,  under  the  instruction  of  Mr.  Adam 
Anderson,*  a  gentleman  well  known  for  his  high  scien- 
tific attainments,  and  Mr.  Forbes,t  now  the  successor  of 
the  Rev.  Dr.  Gordon,  in  Hope  Park  Chapel,  Edinburgh, 
he  prosecuted  those  studies  in  the  mathematics,  in  natural 
philosophy,  chemistry,  and  other  branches  which  have 
been  long  and  successfully  taught  at  that  respectable  semi- 
nary.   He  received,  at  the  end  of  the  session,  the  first  prize 

*  Late  Professor  of  Natural  Philosophy,  in  the  University  of  St. 
Andrew^s. 

t  Now  Rev.  Dr.  Forbes,  one  of  the  ministers  of  the  Free  Church, 
Glasgow. 
4* 


42  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

in  the  second  class ;  and  another  prize  for  the  best  con- 
structed maps. 

This  last  circumstance  induces  me  to  mention  that  there 
was  great  neatness  in  everything  which  was  done  by  my 
young  friend.  He  possessed  the  love  of  order  and  ele- 
gance in  a  very  remarkable  degree.  It  appeared  in  the 
arrangement  of  his  little  library,  in  the  keeping  of  all  his 
things,  in  attention  to  his  person ;  and,  in  short,  in  all 
that  was  capable  of  evincing  the  possession  of  a  mind 
perspicacious,  well  balanced,  and  sensitively  alive  to 
everything  ridiculous  or  offensive. 

\  Hitherto  no  serious  impressions  on  his  mind  had  become 
apparent.  That  he  was  not  altogether  without  them, 
appears  from  references  made  to  this  period  of  his  history 
at  a  future  time.  His  constant  association  with  religious 
people,  the  preaching  of  the  gospel  which  he  regularly 
attended,  in  connection  with  his  peculiarly  impressible 
mind,  must  have  subjected  him  to  occasional  convictions, 
which,  though  not  permanent,  prepared  him  in  a  measure 
for  the  deep  impressions  which  were  afterwards  made  upon 
him.  The  death  of  Mr.  Moncur,  the  master  of  the  Gram- 
mar school,  under  exceedingly  painful  circumstances,  ap- 
pears also  to  have  deeply  affected  him.  But  the  time  had 
not  yet  come,  when  the  full  view  of  his  own  character,  and 
of  the  grace  and  power  of  the  gospel,  were  to  be  expe- 
rienced. 

Few  persons  have  been  placed  in  the  same  circumstances 
with  young  Urquhart,  without  feeling  certain  religious 
emotions ;  though,  alas,  in  a  vast  majority,  those  feelings 
are  subsequently  entirely  erased,  or  only  remain  in  a  very 
faint  and  inefficient  remembrance.  Association  with  the 
world ;  the  pursuits  of  business  or  pleasure ;  or,  what  the 


MEMOIR    OF   JOHN    URQUHART.  43 

Scriptures  admirably  denominate,  *'  The  lust  of  the  flesh, 
the  lust  of  the  eye,  and  the  pride  of  life,"  cause  many  a 
fair  "blossom  to  go  up  as  dust,"  and  destroy  hopes  of  the 
most  flattering  nature.  But  when  it  pleases  God  to  cause 
these  early  convictions  to  take  root,  and  ripen,  the  future 
life  of  the  individual  is  often  remarkably  blessed.  His 
earliest  and  best  years  are  devoted  to  the  enjoyment  and 
service  of  Christ ;  if  cut  off  soon,  it  must  be  matter  of  re- 
joicing that  his  youth  was  given  to  God ;  if  spared  long, 
he  has  the  delightful  privilege  of  obtaining  a  full  reward. 


44  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART, 


CHAPTER  II. 

Difficulties  in  determining  his  profession  —  He  is  sent  to  the  Uni- 
versity of  St.  Andrew's  —  Letter  to  his  father,  giving  an  account 
of  his  gaining  the  first  bursary  —  Letter  to  his  mother  —  His  suc- 
cess at  the  end  of  the  first  session  —  Mr.  Dufi''s  observations  on  his 
conduct  at  this  time  —  Return  to  St.  Andrew^s  —  Letter,  giving  an 
account  of  his  early  impressions,  and  change  of  mind  —  Remarks 
on  this  subject  —  His  views  of  Christian  fellowship  —  Success  at 
the  end  of  his  second  session. 

The  period  had  now  come  when  it  was  necessary  to  de- 
termine the  future  career  of  this  interesting  boy.  Various 
objects  presented  themselves  to  the  minds  of  his  anxious 
parents.  They  thought  of  the  professions  of  the  law,  and 
of  medicine,  and  perhaps  of  another  profession  also,  though 
they  feared  to  avow  it,  especially  to  himself.  It  is  not 
improbable  that  his  own  mind  was  directed  to  the  minis- 
try ;  but  as  he  had  given  no  decided  indications  of  piety, 
neither  his  father  nor  myself  encouraged  him  to  think  of 
it.  Convinced  of  the  deep  injury  done  to  religion,  by  the 
education  of  men  for  the  ministry,  who  afford  no  evidence 
that  they  themselves  know  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus,  I 
consider  the  encouragement  of  such  persons,  the  greatest 
wrong  which  can  be  done  to  their  own  souls,  and  to  the 
Church  of  Christ.  In  some  instances,  it  is  true,  the  sal- 
vation of  the  gospel  is  afterwards  received  by  them ;  in 
numerous  instances  it  is  altogether  and  finally  rejected, 
although  the  most  solemn  obligations  are  submitted  to,  to 
preach  it ;  and  in  many  cases  there  is  reason  to  fear,  a 


MEMOIK    OF    JOHN    UKQUHART.  45 

cold  orthodoxy  is  all  that  is  ever  attained.  Under  the 
influence  of  these  causes,  Christianity  has  sustained  more 
injury  than  from  all  other  things.  The  ruin  of  any  church 
may  be  dated  from  the  time  that  it  commences  the  train- 
ing of  men  avowedly  for  the  ministry,  from  their  infancy. 

This  is  a  different  matter  from  a  Christian  parent,  de- 
voting, in  his  own  mind,  to  the  work  of  God,  a  promising 
youth,  provided  he  shall  become  a  partaker  of  divine  grace. 
In  that  case,  it  will  be  his  duty  to  give  him  such  an  educa- 
tion as  his  circumstances  admit,  and  which  may  eventually 
further  the  object  of  his  wishes.  Such  were  the  views 
with  which  I  tendered  my  advice  to  the  elder  Mr.  Urqu- 
hart,  respecting  the  education  and  prospects  of  his  son. 
I  was  powerfully  convinced,  that,  should  it  please  God  to 
call  him  to  the  knowledge  of  himself,  he  had  all  the  ele- 
ments of  an  accomplished  and  attractive  preacher.  He 
had  a  fine  voice,  a  pleasing  address  and  appearance,  be- 
sides being  remarkably  fond  of  knowledge,  and  diligent  in 
its  pursuit.  To  himself  I  said  nothing  ;  but  I  pointed  out 
these  things  to  his  father,  and  convinced  him  of  the  im- 
portance of  giving  his  son  such  an  education,  as  might  suit 
any  of  the  professions  in  which  the  knowledge  of  literature 
is  required.  To  everything  except  study,  he  always  mani- 
fested great  reluctance  or  aversion ;  so  that  the  path  of 
duty  to  send  him  to  St.  Andrew's  became  at  length  clear. 

The  high  satisfaction  which  this  afforded  to  John  was 
very  evident.  The  buoyancy  and  vivacity  of  youth,  no 
doubt,  appeared,  in  the  prospect  of  going  to  a  new  scene, 
especially  as  that  scene  was  a  University.  But  he  was  to 
be  placed  among  those  to  whom  he  was  almost  an  entire 
stranger,  to  be  separated  from  his  own  family,  which  he 
had  never  before  left,  except  for  a  few  days  together,  and 


46  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

to  be  made,  in  a  great  measure,  his  own  master.  These 
considerations  could  not  fail  to  make  on  his  delicate  mind, 
some  painful  impression. 

His  parents,  too,  could  not  but  feel  the  risk  to  which 
they  were  exposed,  though  he  had  hitherto  conducted  him- 
self with  much  propriety  and  success.  He  possessed  a 
large  portion  of  good  sense  for  his  years.  He  was  exceed- 
ingly steady  and  persevering  in  all  his  habits ;  and  was 
ardently  set  on  rising  to  eminence  in  some  honourable 
department  of  life.  But  he  was  yet  a  boy;  having  only 
completed  his  fourteenth  year.  To  many  temptations  he 
was  now  to  be  exposed,  from  which  he  had  before  been  ex- 
empted, or  the  influence  of  which  had  been  in  a  degree 
counteracted.  Dangers  of  a  very  formidable  kind  fre- 
quently assail  an  inexperienced  youth,  not  only  from  the 
associates  of  his  academical  pursuits,  but  from  some  of 
those  pursuits  themselves.  But  the  election  had  been 
made ;  it  was  therefore  necessary  to  commit  him  to  the 
care  and  blessing  of  God. 

I  feel  pleasure  in  remembering,  that,  with  his  father,  I 
accompanied  him  to  St.  Andrew's,  and  thus  far  assisted 
in  introducing  him  to  that  scene  of  usefulness,  and  per- 
haps, in  the  best  sense,  I  might  say,  of  glory,  in  which  he 
was  destined  to  act  a  conspicuous  and  an  important  part. 
Lodgings  of  the  humble  kind,  which  are  generally  occu- 
pied by  the  young  men  who  attended  that  University, 
whose  circumstances  and  prospects  are  not  of  a  superior 
description,  were  provided  for  him.  The  respective  pro- 
fessors on  whose  lectures  he  was  to  attend,  were  spoken 
to,  and  he  was  commended  especially  to  the  watchful  care 
of  my  respected  friend,  the  Rev.  William  Lothian,  minis- 
ter of  the  Independent  congregation,  whose  ministerial 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART.  47 

labours  he  was  to  enjoy,  on  the  Lord's  day.  Of  that  gen- 
tleman's kind  and  affectionate  attentions,  John  ever  spoke 
with  great  warmth ;  and  to  him  he  was  indebted  for  much 
useful  instruction,  in  private  as  well  as  in  public. 

Here  I  cannot  allow  the  opportunity  to  pass  without 
bearing  my  public  and  decided  testimony  to  the  liberal 
principles  on  which  the  Universities  of  my  native  country 
are  conducted.  At  these  important  establishments,  no 
distinction  of  party  is  acknowledged.  They  are  open  to 
men  of  all  professions.  No  subscription  is  required  at  en- 
trance or  in  any  stage  of  future  progress.  Their  highest 
honours  are  attainable  by  the  Dissenter  as  well  as  by  the 
Churchman ;  and,  in  the  distribution  of  their  rewards,  I 
am  not  aware  that  any  difference  is  made  in  consequence 
of  the  candidate  not  being  of  the  established  faith.  At 
St.  Andrew's  all  the  students  are  required  to  attend  public 
worship  on  the  Lord's  day,  at  the  College  church  ;  but  a 
young  man  has  only  to  signify  that  he  is  a  Dissenter,  and 
that  he  means  to  attend  regularly  at  the  dissenting  chapel 
or  meeting-house,  and  his  attendance  with  his  fellow- 
students  is  at  once  dispensed  with.  It  is  due  to  both 
parties  that  I  should  state,  that  John  Urquhart  entered 
the  College  of  St.  Andrew's  as  the  son  of  dissenting 
parents  ;  *  while  there,  he  regularly  attended  a  dissenting 
meeting,  and  became  a  regular  member  of  a  Dissenting 
Church ;  he  left  it  with  a  mind  unaffected  on  the  subject 
of  dissent ;  and  throughout  his  course  of  study,  he  received 
from  all  the  professors,  the  most  marked  and  affectionate 
treatment.  Of  their  kind  and  honourable  conduct,  he 
always  spoke  with  the  warmest  respect  and  gratitude. 

Of  this  impartiality  he  had  soon  a  very  substantial  proof. 
*  Of  the  Congregational  body. 


^  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

Contrary  to  the  wishes  of  his  father,  he  was  determined 
to  offer  himself  as  a  candidate  for  one  of  the  exhibitions, 
or  bursaries,  as  they  are  termed,  in  Scotland ;  most  of 
which  have  been  left  for  the  encouragement  of  young  men 
at  the  commencement  of  their  college  career,  with  a  view 
to  help  them  to  defray  the  expenses  of  it.  Though  the 
sum  is  usually  small,  it  has  often  proved  highly  beneficial ; 
not  merely  in  aiding  those  whose  resources  are  rather 
limited,  but  in  exciting  and  stimulating  the  successful  can- 
didate to  further  exertion.  The  effect  produced  in  this 
way  on  the  mind  of  my  young  friend,  I  have  no  doubt, 
was  both  considerable  and  beneficial.  But,  as  happily  his 
own  account  of  his  trial  and  his  success  remains,  I  shall 
allow  him  to  tell  the  story  of  his  first  adventure  himself. 
In  a  letter  to  his  father,  dated  St.  Andrew's,  7th  of  No- 
vember, 1822,  he  writes  as  follows :  — 

"  My  Dear  Father  —  The  bursaries  are  at  last  decided. 
Tuesday  was  the  day  appointed  for  the  competition ;  we 
met  accordingly,  at  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  got  a 
passage  to  translate  from  Latin  into  English,  which  we 
gave  in  at  two  o'clock.  We  were  then  allowed  an  hour 
for  dinner,  and  assembled  again  at  three,  when  we  had 
another  version  to  turn  from  English  into  Latin,  which  we 
finished  about  six  o'clock.  We  were  then,  without  getting 
out,  locked  up  in  a  room  to  wait  till  we  were  called  in  our 
turn  to  be  examined  upon  an  extempore  sentence.  I  was 
not  called  upon  till  near  eleven,  when  I  was  dismissed  for 
that  night.  The  professors  met  yesterday  to  determine 
the  bursaries,  from  the  exercises  that  had  been  performed 
the  day  before.  There  were  no  less  than  tldrty-three  com- 
petitors, and  as  I  knew  many  of  them  to  be  very  good 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART.  49 

scholars,  from  their  answers  in  the  public  classes,  I  had 
given  up  all  hopes  of  getting  one.  You  may  then  judge 
of  my  very  agreeable  disappointment,  on  going  last  night 
to  know  the  determination,  to  hear  that  I  had  gained  the 
first  bursary.  I  could  not  believe  it  till  we,  who  had 
got  bursaries  were  called  in,  and  informed  of  it  by  the 
Principal. 

''  I  began  my  letter  with  the  decision  of  the  bursaries, 
and  have  dwelt  on  them  so  long,  because  I  thought  it 
would  be  the  most  agreeable  intelligence  I  could  com- 
municate. The  whole  four  bursaries  are  equal  in  regard 
to  value,  being  each  eight  pounds  a  session,  for  four  years, 
if  the  person  continues  at  the  College  for  that  time.  It 
has  certainly  greatly  relieved  my  mind,  as  my  expenses 
here  will  now  be  comparatively  easy.  I  w^as  very  dull,  of 
course,  for  the  first  two  or  three  days  I  was  here,  but  since 
Alexander  Duff  came,  I  have  been  happy  enough  with  my 
situation.  I  feel  every  comfort  that  I  could  have  at  home, 
excepting  the  presence  of  my  friends.  Mr.  Lothian  has 
been  unremitting  in  his  kindness  to  me  ever  since  I  came." 

This  letter  shows  satisfactorily  the  attainments  he  must 
have  made,  when  at  the  early  age  of  fourteen,  he  could 
gain  the  first  bursary  among  thirty-three  competitors,  the 
great  body  of  whom  must  have  been  much  further  advanced 
in  life  than  himself.  It  affords  evidence,  also,  of  that 
spirit  of  exertion  and  independence  which  distinguished 
him  to  the  last.  It  was  his  desire  to  be  as  little  burden- 
some to  his  parents  as  possible ;  and  everything  which 
enabled  him  to  diminish  that  burden,  he  grasped  at  with 
avidity.  His  wants  were  very  easily  supplied ;  and  could 
I,  with  propriety,  communicate  the  details  and  evidence 
5 


50  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    UKQUHART. 

of  his  economy,  which  are  now  hefore  me,  I  am  sure  they 
would  excite  no  ordinary  degree  of  surprise.  Possessed, 
even  at  this  early  period,  of  a  generous  and  self-denying 
spirit,  he  nobly  sacrificed  everything  which  it  was  possible 
for  him  to  give  up,  so  that  the  expense  of  his  education 
might  affect  as  little  as  possible  the  other  branches  of  the 
family. 

The  time  of  a  young  man  attending  the  classes  of  a 
University  must  be  so  fully  occupied,  that  it  would  be 
foolish  to  expect  that  much  of  it  should  be  spent  in  letter 
writing.  Besides,  many  letters  may  be  written  which  con- 
tain nothing  that  would  be  proper  to  meet  the  public  eye. 

The  following  extract  from  a  letter  to  his  mother,  dis- 
covers his  affection  for  her,  gives  some  account  of  his  em- 
ployments, and  shows  how  busily  and  constantly  he  was 
engaged. 

"  St.  Andrew's,  December  12,  1822. 

''  My  Dear  Mother  —  I  confess  that  I  ought  to  have 
written  to  you  before  now;  I  shall  make  no  excuse  for  not 
doing  so  ;  but  shall  only  say,  that  it  by  no  means  pro- 
ceeded from  forgetfulness  or  neglect  of  you.  If  there  is 
any  one  of  you  that  I  remember  more  than  another,  you 
are  that  one ;  and,  indeed,  I  must  be  kept  in  constant  re- 
membrance of  you,  by  the  comforts  you  are  sending  me 
every  opportunity.  The  flannels,  &c.,  which  you  sent  last, 
were  very  acceptable ;  the  mittens  you  sent  me  were  also 
very  seasonable ;  but  I  hope  you  were  not,  in  any  way, 
depriving  yourself  of  them  for  my  sake  ;  for,  if  I  thought 
so,  I  could  have  no  pleasure  in  wearing  them. 

"  I  was  happy  to  hear  by  my  father's  last  letter,  that 
you  were  keeping  free  of  your  complaint.     I  hope  you  are 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    UEQUHART.  61 

still  SO  ;  and  David  *  also.  I  always  feel  a  kind  of  uneasi- 
ness in  being  absent  from  you  all ;  but  to  hear  tliat  you 
are  all  well  removes  the  greater  part  of  it.  For  my  part, 
I  am  keeping  my  health  better  here  than  ever  I  did  before. 
I  have  not  had  the  slightest  head-ache.  This,  I  am  con- 
vinced, proceeds  in  a  great  measure  from  regularity. 
Every  hour  is  employed  much  in  the  same  manner  every 
day.  My  meals  are  also  strictly  measured  in  the  same 
quantity.  I  rise  every  day  at  seven  o'clock,  (with  candle- 
light of  course,)  go  to  the  Greek  class  at  eight,  and  remain 
there  till  nine ;  take  my  breakfast  and  go  to  the  library 
between  nine  and  ten ;  go  to  the  mathematics  from  ten  to 
eleven ;  the  Greek  again  from  eleven  to  twelve ;  take  a 
walk  between  twelve  and  one ;  go  to  Latin  from  one  to 
two  ;  dine  between  two  and  three ;  study  till  four  ;  take  a 
walk  between  four  and  five  ;  and  am  in  the  house  the  rest 
of  the  night :  you  have  thus  a  history  of  the  time  I  have 
spent  since  I  came  here. 

"  This  has  been  a  very  dry  letter,  but  you  may  expect  a 
better  next. 

"And  believe  me  to  be, 
"  Your  very  affectionate  and  obedient  son." 

By  the  same  conveyance,  he  wrote  his  eldest  brother  a 
playful  letter,  enclosing  a  plan  of  St.  Andrew's,  sketched 
with  his  pen,  with  very  considerable  accuracy  and  neatness. 

He  paid  a  visit  of  a  few  days  to  Perth,  during  the 
Christmas  vacation  of  College,  and  returned  to  prosecute 
his  studies  with  increasing  ardour  and  diligence.  When 
the  end  of  the  session  arrived,  he  bore  off  the  silver  medal, 
which  is  the  highest  prize  of  the  junior  Greek  class,  which 
^  His  eldest  brother. 


5il  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

he  attended.  He  also  received  ''  Xenophon  de  Cyri  Expe- 
ditione,"  as  a  prize  in  the  junior  Latin  class.  In  the 
senior  mathematical  class,  taught  by  Professor  Duncan, 
he  obtained  "  Simpson's  Conic  Sections,"  as  one  of  the 
prizes  ;  but  which  in  order,  I  have  not  ascertained.  This 
success  could  not  fail  to  be  flattering  to  a  young  and 
ardent  mind ;  yet  I  do  not  recollect  that  he  seemed  much 
elated  by  it  on  his  return.  He  seldom  spoke  of  himself; 
and  though  to  me  he  was  accustomed  to  speak  freely,  he 
rarely  adverted  to  his  exertions,  and  scarcely  at  all  to  the 
honours  which  he  had  obtained. 

I  have  reason  to  believe,  indeed,  that  the  good  work 
was  slowly  and  imperceptibly  going  on  in  his  soul.  I  know 
that  he  was  then  in  the  habit  of  reading  the  Scriptures 
regularly  every  day,  and  that  he  and  his  companion  fre- 
quently joined  together  in  prayer.  His  uniform  correct- 
ness of  conduct  and  regularity  in  attending  the  means  of 
grace  on  Sabbath,  encouraged  the  hope  that  a  decided 
profession  of  religion  would  be  made  at  no  distant  period. 
In  such  a  case  as  his,  no  very  marked  or  visible  transition 
could  take  place.  His  mind,  familiar  from  infancy  with 
divine  truth,  had  not  to  acquire  a  theoretical  knowledge 
of  it.  Not  the  intellectual  perception  of  the  gospel,  but 
the  moral  taste  for  its  beauty  and  adaptation,  was  the 
thing  required.  The  former  is  a  mere  human  attainment, 
the  latter  is  the  doing  of  the  Lord.  Man  may  cultivate 
and  enlarge  the  understanding ;  but  God  only  can  touch 
and  renovate  the  heart.  Our  expectations  in  regard  to 
this  were  not  disappointed. 

The  following  extract  of  a  letter  from  his  companion 
Mr.  Duff,  confirms  these  observations,  and  shows  what  a 
change  must  afterwards  have  taken  place. 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART.  53 

'  <' During  the  session  of  College  at  St.  Andrew's,  in 
1822-3,  he  and  I  lodged  together  in  the  same  room.  He 
was  still  the  same  John  Urquhart,  though  more  ripened  in 
intellect,  and,  if  possible,  more  amiable  in  deportment. 
He  attended  the  junior  Greek  and  Latin  Classes,  and  the 
second  mathematical  class.  He  gained  the  first  prize  in 
the  Greek,  a  prize  in  each  of  the  competitions  in  the  Latin, 
and  a  prize  in  the  Mathematics ;  all  this  he  accomplished 
with  little  labour  or  exertion.  He  spent  much  time  in 
reading  books  from  the  public  library :  of  what  description 
these  generally  were,  I  do  not  now  remember ;  but  one  he 
read  and  re-read  with  peculiar  satisfaction,  '  The  Memoirs 
and  Writings  of  Henry  Kirke  White.'  He  took  great 
delight  in  walking  along  the  sea-shore,  and  exploring  the 
rocks  which  so  abound  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  town. 
Throughout  the  whole  session  we  regularly  engaged  in 
the  worship  of  God  morning  and  evening ;  but  I  fear  there 
was  much  coldness,  and  much  formality  in  almost  every 
exercise.  With  neither  of  us  I  fear,  was  religion  then 
made  the  great  object.  There  was  little  appearance  of  the 
savour  and  unction  of  divine,  little  appearance  of  real  joy 
and  delight  in  communion  with  God,  little  in  short,  to 
manifest  the  earnest  longing,  the  devout  aspiration,  the 
holy  zeal  of  him  whose  piety  is  deeply  rooted  in  the  heart, 
and  tinctures  more  or  less  with  its  own  sacredness,  every 
thought  and  feeling,  every  word  and  action.  The  Bible 
was  read,  but  I  fear  that  the  spiritual  meaning  of  the 
Bible  was  not  understood,  and  the  subduing  power  of  its 
doctrines  not  felt.  Prayers  were  regularly  offered  ;  but  I 
fear  that  the  real  spirit  of  prayer  was  wanting  —  the  fer- 
vent outpouring  of  the  heart  to  God.  The  wonders  of  re- 
deeming love  formed  but  a  small  share  of  our  discourse : 
5* 


M  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQTJHART. 

our  own  individual  interest  in  the  great  salvation,  formed 
not  a  prominent  subject  of  eager  inquiry  and  anxious 
examination.  In  this  manner  passed  the  session  of  1822-3, 
without  any  remarkable  incident." 

He  passed  the  following  summer  at  home  with  his 
friends,  without  any  circumstance  occurring  worthy  of 
notice  ;  and  in  the  beginning  of  November,  1823,  returned 
to  St.  Andrew's  to  attend  his  second  College  course. 
Scarcely  any  of  his  correspondence  during  this  session 
remains.  He  appears  to  have  been  very  busily  engaged 
in  his  various  studies ;  and  yet  it  was  towards  the  close 
of  this  period,  that  he  was  led  to  make  that  decided  pro- 
fession of  religion,  which  he  was  enabled  to  maintain  to 
the  last.  I  cannot  express  the  gratification  I  felt  on  re- 
ceiving the  following  letter  from  him ;  and  which,  notwith- 
standing its  peculiar  references  to  myself,  I  hope  I  shall 
be  forgiven  for  presenting  entire.  I  had  not  previously 
heard  of  his  taking  the  step  to  which  it  refers. 

"St.  Andrew's,  April  13,  1824. 
"  My  Dear  Sir  —  It  is  with  feelings  of  a  very  peculiar 
nature,  that  I  sit  down  at  present  to  write  to  you.  Since 
I  saw  you  last  I  have  been  admitted  a  member  of  a  Chi'is- 
tian  Church.  I  determined  to  write  to  you  at  present  for 
several  reasons.  I  have  long  considered  you  as  one  of 
my  best  friends,  and  as  a  sincere  servant  and  follower  of 
Jesus  Christ ;  and  your  preaching  was  the  first  instrument 
in  the  hand  of  God,  of  leading  me  to  think  seriously  of 
an  eternal  world.  To  you,  therefore,  I  have  determined 
to  reveal  every  feeling,  and  to  open  the  recesses  of  my 
heart. 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART.  55 

"  My  first  impressions  of  danger,  as  a  sinner,  were 
caused  by  a  sermon  you  preached  on  a  Lord's  day  even- 
ing, about  a  year  and  a  half  ago.  At  the  time,  I  was 
very  much  affected ;  it  was  then  I  think,  that  I  first  really 
prayed.  I  retired  to  my  apartment,  and  with  many  tears 
confessed  my  guilt  before  God.  These  impressions  were 
followed  by  some  remarkable  events  in  the  providence  of 
God,  which  struck  me  very  forcibly.  About  that  time,  I 
had  a  proof  of  the  inability  of  earthly  wisdom  and  learn- 
ing to  confer  true  happiness,  by  the  melancholy  death  of 
Mr.  Moncur.  On  leaving  my  father's  house  to  come  here, 
shortly  after,  I  felt  myself  in  a  peculiar  manner  dependent 
on  Jehovah.  I  was  removed  from  the  care  of  my  earthly 
father,  and  from  the  intercourse  of  my  earthly  friends ; 
and  I  felt  great  pleasure  in  committing  myself  to  him  who 
is  the  father  of  the  fatherless,  and  a  friend  to  those  that 
have  none.  My  companion  used  to  join  me  morning  and 
evening  in  the  reading  of  the  Scriptures,  and  prayer. 
In  these,  and  in  attending  on  the  more  public  exercises  of 
God's  worship,  I  had  some  enjoyment,  and  from  them,  I 
think,  I  derived  some  advantage.  On  my  return  home, 
however,  last  summer,  I  began  to  feel  less  pleasure  in 
these  employments ;  they  began  to  be  a  weariness  to  me, 
and  were  at  last  almost  totally  neglected.  My  soul  re- 
verted to  its  original  bent,  and  the  follies  of  this  world 
wholly  engrossed  my  attention.  Had  I  been  left  in  that 
state,  I  must  have  inevitably  perished.  But  God  is  rich 
in  mercy ;  he  delighteth  not  in  the  death  of  the  wicked. 
In  his  infinite  mercy,  he  has  again  been  pleased  to  call  my 
attention  to  the  things  of  eternity.  For  some  months 
back,  I  have  been  led  to  see  the  utter  worthlessness  of 


56  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

earthly  things ;  to  see  that  happiness  is  not  to  be  found  in 
any  earthly  object;  that 

"  '  Learning,  pleasure,  wealth,  and  fame, 
All  cry  out.  It  is  not  here,' 

And  I  think  I  have  been  led  to  seek  it  where  alone  it  is  to 
be  found,  in  *  Jesus  crucified  for  me.'  I  have  felt  great 
pleasure  in  communion  with  God ;  and  I  have  felt  some 
love,  though  faint,  to  the  Saviour,  and  to  his  cause.  I 
have  had  a  long  struggle  with  the  world ;  I  have  counted 
the  cost,  and  I  have  at  last  resolved  that  I  will  serve  the 
Lord.  I  have  long  been  kept  back  from  openly  professing 
my  faith  in  Jesus  from  an  apprehension  lest  my  future 
conduct  might  bring  disgrace  on  the  religion  of  the 
Saviour.  But  I  have  begun  to  think  that  this  proceeds, 
in  a  great  measure,  from  self-confidence,  and  from  not 
trusting  implicitly  to  the  promises  of  God.  He  that  hath 
brought  me  thus  far,  will  not  now  forsake  me  ;  he  that  hath 
begun  a  good  work  will  perfect  it  until  the  end. 

"  On  Thursday  s'ennight,  after  imploring  the  Divine 
direction,  I  felt  it  my  duty  to  apply  for  admission  to  a 
Christian  Church ;  since  then,  I  have  conversed  with  two 
of  the  members ;  and,  being  proposed  last  Lord's  day,  I 
was  received  into  their  number.  I  have  thus,  my  dear  sir, 
as  far  as  I  can,  related  to  you  without  reserve,  my  various 
feelings,  and  my  state  of  mind  since  I  first  was  impressed 
with  a  sense  of  the  importance  of  religion.  I  have  yet 
many  doubts  whether  I  have  been  really  renewed  by  the 
grace  of  God.  Of  this  my  future  life  must  be  the  test.  I 
see  many  temptations  in  my  way,  and  I  feel  that  I  am  not 
able  in  myself  to  withstand  them.  May  God  perfect  his 
strength  in  my  weakness,  and  may  he  enable  me  to  live 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART.  5T 

henceforth,  not  to  myself,  but  to  him  who  died  for  me, 
and  who  rose  again ;  to  oflfer  my  body  a  living  sacrifice, 
and  to  devote  all  the  faculties  of  my  mind  to  his  service. 
And  now,  my  dear  sir,  pray  for  me,  that  he  who  is  able 
to  stablish  me  according  to  the  preaching  of  Christ  Jesus, 
may  keep  me  from  falling,  and  make  me  in  the  end  more 
than  a  conqueror.  At  present,  farewell;  I  hope  to  see 
you  soon.  Give  compliments  to  Mrs.  Orme,  to  my  parents, 
and  all  friends." 

'*  P.  S.  You  may,  perhaps,  think  I  have  been  rash  in 
joining  myself  to  the  church  here,  when  I  have  a  prospect 
of  returning  to  you  in  so  short  a  time.  I  can  only  say 
that  I  felt  it  my  duty  to  apply  immediately,  that  I  have 
before  experienced  the  danger  of  procrastination,  and  that 
I  consider  it  much  the  same  whether  I  be  in  the  first 
instance  to  be  connected  with  the  church  here,  or  with 
that  in  Perth,  and  that  our  friends  here  were  all  of  the 
same  opinion.  In  connecting  myself  with  that  body  of 
Christians,  to  which  you  and  my  parents  belong,  I  think  I 
have  not  been  influenced  by  the  prejudices  of  education, 
but  a  sense  of  duty,  and  the  writings  of  the  apostles  them- 
selves." 

This  letter  bears  all  the  marks  of  the  most  ingenuous 
and  candid  disclosures  of  the  leadings  of  Providence,  and 
the  workings  of  his  own  mind.  It  shows  the  gradual  and 
pleasing  manner  in  which  he  had  been  led  to  receive  and 
obey  the  truth ;  and  that  although  he  had  been  much  en- 
gaged in  literary  and  scientific  pursuits,  and  ardently 
attached  to  them,  the  powerful  operations  of  the  divine 
Spirit  had  carried  forward  the  process  of  illumination  and 


68  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

conviction,  till  it  at  last  issued  in  his  decided  conversion 
to  God.  His  reasons  for  taking  the  step  which  he  had 
adopted,  were  those  by  which  he  appears  to  have  been  in- 
variably influenced  in  his  religious  course.  He  first  sought 
to  ascertain  what  was  the  will  of  God ;  and  on  arriving  at 
a  satisfactory  conclusion  on  this  point,  he  was  then  pre- 
pared to  encounter  all  difficulties  which  stood  in  the  way 
of  full  compliance  with  it.  He  delayed  not,  but  hastened 
to  keep  the  commandment. 

How  much  it  is  to  be  regretted  that  prudential  con- 
siderations, or  sinful  timidity,  induce  many  individuals, 
long  after  they  have  received  the  truth,  to  keep  at  a  dis- 
tance from  the  fellowship  and  ordinances  of  the  Church  of 
Christ.  Instead  of  looking  at  the  command  of  God,  and 
considering  the  shortness  and  uncertainty  of  human  life, 
they  allow  year  after  year  to  pass  away  in  inquiring  and 
doubting ;  or  resolving  and  calculating,  instead  of  deciding 
and  acting.  The  consequences  are  a  deprivation  of  per- 
sonal comfort,  to  a  great  extent ;  the  formation  of  habits 
most  unfavourable  to  the  decision  of  religious  character, 
and  injuries  of  various  kinds  being  done  to  the  souls  of 
others. 

It  is  as  clear  as  possible,  that  at  the  beginning,  no 
sooner  did  men  believe  the  gospel,  than  they  associated 
together  for  the  observance  of  all  the  institutions  appointed 
by  Christ  in  his  Church.  There  was  then  no  neutral 
ground  on  which  they  could  stand,  between  the  world  and 
the  Church  of  God.  No  man  is  recognized  in  the  New 
Testament  as  a  Christian,  who  is  not  a  member  of  a  Chris- 
tian society.  Yet  not  a  few  can  reconcile  themselves 
to  remain  in  the  perfectly  anomalous  situation  of  doing 
all  that  Christianity  seems  to  require,  but  making  that 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    UEQXJHAET.  59 

profession  of  it  which  lies  at  the  foundation  of  every- 
thing else. 

I  am  aware  that  human  barriers  have  sometimes  been 
presented,  by  which  some  have  been  improperly  kept  at  a 
distance  from  the  fellowship  of  the  gospel,  who  ought  to 
have  been  welcomed  into  it.  But  I  fear,  in  the  majority 
of  instances,  the  evil  is  to  be  traced  to  erroneous  ideas  of 
the  gospel,  inadequate  impressions  of  divine  authority,  and 
to  a  want  of  that  firm  and  decided  principle,  which,  wherever 
it  exists,  will  conquer  trivial  and  even  considerable  diffi- 
culties. Providence  is  frequently  pleaded  as  an  excuse, 
while  its  arrangements  are  only  putting  our  sincerity  and 
principles  to  the  test.  As  he  who  observeth  the  clouds 
will  not  sow,  so  he  that  will  not  go  forward  in  doing  the 
will  of  God  till  all  difficulties  are  removed  out  of  the  way, 
will  always  find  something  to  hinder  him. 

The  plea  set  up  by  many,  that  they  are  afraid  they  may 
be  left  to  bring  disgrace  on  religion,  is  admirably  adverted 
to  by  my  young  friend.  A  more  superficial  thinker  would 
have  ascribed  this  feeling  to  humility  and  self-distrust ; 
he,  with  nicer  discrimination,  ascribes  it  to  self-confidence. 
Provided  our  obedience  were  in  any  instance  the  result 
of  our  own  strength,  we  might  be  justified  in  exercising 
delay  on  this  principle.  But  as  from  first  to  last  we  are 
called  to  depend  on  the  strength  of  another,  the  case  is 
very  different.  He  who  enables  us  to  believe,  and  flee 
from  the  wrath  to  come,  will  assuredly  preserve  us  from 
dishonouring  him,  if  our  confidence  is  properly  reposed. 
Many  refuse  to  believe  in  Christ,  on  the  plea  that  their 
sins  are  too  great  for  them  to  hope  that  they  may  be  for- 
given. This  they  call  humility;  while  in  fact  it  is  the 
deceitful  operation  of  pride.     It  is  obvious  that  if  they 


60  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

thouglit  they  were  better,  they  would  not  feel  the  same 
difficulty ;  because  they  could  then  come  to  Christ  with 
greater  confidence  of  acceptance.  Many  think  they  are 
not  good  enough  to  observe  the  Lord's  Supper ;  as  if  the 
observance  of  it  ought  to  be  suspended  on  their  goodness 
or  merit.  It  is  intended  exclusively  for  Christians ;  but 
under  that  denomination,  it  includes  all  of  every  grade  in 
the  profession,  who  really  know  and  love  the  Lord.  It  is 
designed,  not  for  the  perfect,  but  as  the  means  of  promot- 
ing perfection  in  those  who  are  aiming  to  attain  it.  It  is 
intended,  not  for  the  full,  but  for  the  empty  soul ;  and  will 
always  prove  useful  in  invigorating  the  life  of  godliness. 

The  following  extract  of  a  letter  written  long  after,  to 
the  Rev.  W.  Lothian,  pastor  of  the  church  which  he 
joined,  both  illustrates  his  grateful  feelings,  and  his  strong 
attachment  to  the  church  under  his  care. 

"  I  am  chargeable  with  many  faults,  and  carelessness  is 
not  among  the  least  of  them.  I  will  not  offer  any  apology, 
or  pretend  to  make  an  excuse  for  not  writing  sooner,  for 
my  own  conscience  condemns  me.  But  be  assured  it  has 
not  proceeded  from  a  want  of  Christian  love,  or  a  forget- 
fulness  of  the  many  spiritual  blessings  I  have  enjoyed 
under  your  ministry,  and  in  communion  with  the  church 
under  your  care,  or  the  many  acts  of  kindness  shown 
me  by  many  of  its  members.  No  !  I  will  never  forget 
St.  Andrew's ;  and  the  place  where  first  I  professed 
myself  a  follower  of  the  Lord,  and  the  little  body  of 
Christians  who  first  gave  me  the  right  hand  of  fellow- 
ship, will  be  remembered  with  lively  gratitude  and  de- 
light, when  the  associations  of  literary  and  social  inter- 
course shall  have  been  efiaced,  by  the  impression  of  other 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUIIART.  61 

scones,  and  different  pursuits.  How  different  is  our  friend- 
ship from  that  of  the  world  !  Distance  of  time  and  pLace 
cannot  weaken  it,  since  neither  can  remove  us  from  Christ. 
So  long  as  we  love  him  who  begat,  so  long  shall  we  love 
those  who  are  begotten  of  him ;  and  coldness  of  love  to 
our  Christian  brethren  can  only  be  produced  by  luke- 
warmness  in  our  love  to  God.  Forgive  my  wandering ;  I 
sometimes  forget  that  I  am  writing  a  letter." 

"The  account  which  he  gave,"  says  Mr.  Lothian,  "of 
his  religious  views  and  experience,  on  being  received  into 
church,  was  very  satisfactory,  and  discovered  great  know- 
ledge of  the  Scriptures  in  one  so  young.  He  particularly 
mentioned  the  advantage  he  had  derived  from  parental 
instruction,  and  from  hearing  the  gospel  faithfully  preached. 
I  thought  it  my  duty  to  remind  him,  that  by  casting  in 
his  lot  with  us,  he  would  be  deprived  of  that  patronage 
which  might  otherwise  have  held  out  to  him  prospects  of 
temporal  advancement.  He,  however,  said,  that  he  had 
examined  the  subject  for  himself,  and  could  not  conscien- 
tiously unite  himself  to  any  other  body  of  Christians." 

The  propriety  of  Mr.  Lothian's  caution  will  appear  when 
we  reflect  on  the  tender  years  of  young  Urquhart,  on  his 
highly  promising  talents,  on  the  temptations  incident  to  a 
college  life,  and  on  the  little  inducement  which  he  could  have, 
under  such  circumstances,  to  connect  himself  with  a  small, 
and  in  the  city  of  St.  Andrew's,  a  despised  independent 
church.  Difficult  as  the  circumstances  were,  he  maintained 
his  consistency  and  integrity  of  character  to  the  last.  And 
such  was  the  power  of  principle,  and  his  attachment  to  the 
body  to  which  he  belonged,  that  when  on  his  leaving  St. 
6 


Bl  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    TJ  R  Q  U  H  A  R  T. 

Andrew's,  a  very  desirable  situation  was  put  in  his  power, 
he  would  not  accept  of  it,  till  the  parties  were  informed 
that  he  was  a  Dissenter,  and  that  the  full  liberty  to  act 
according  to  his  own  principles  was  the  sine  qua  non  of 
his  acceptance.  I  mention  these  things  chiefly  as  evi- 
dences of  his  sincerity,  decision,  and  steadiness. 

Important  as  these  matters  were,  it  must  not  be  sup- 
posed that  he  was  so  absorbed  by  them  as  to  neglect  his 
professional  studies.  The  best  evidence  of  the  contrary  is 
furnished  by  the  fact,  that  at  the  end  of  the  session,  which 
took  place  after  he  joined  the  church  at  St.  Andrew's,  he 
obtained  again  some  of  the  best  prizes.  A  second  time  he 
received  the  silver  medal,  as  the  best  scholar  in  the  senior 
Greek  class ;  and  also  the  second  prize,  "  Xenophon  de 
Cyri  Institutione,"  in  the  same  class.  In  the  third  mathe- 
matical class,  he  also  obtained  one  of  the  best  prizes.  His 
distinguished  attainments  as  a  Greek  scholar,  were  thus 
noticed  by  Professor  Alexander:  "He  prosecuted  his 
studies  with  unremitting  assiduity;  evinced  talents  and 
attainments  in  Greek  literature  of  the  first  order ;  and  in 
each  session  carried  off,  as  he  well  merited,  the  highest 
prize  of  distinguished  scholarship." 

On  his  return  home,  I  had  the  opportunity  of  convers- 
ing fully  with  him  on  the  nature  of  his  religious  views,  the 
great  change  which  had  taken  place  in  him,  and  the  object 
which  he  was  now  led  to  pursue.  I  found  his  mind,  as  I 
expected,  devoted  to  the  Christian  ministry ;  and  it  now 
became  my  pleasing  duty  to  encourage  his  resolution,  and 
direct  his  reading  with  a  view  to  that  object.  Possessing, 
as  he  evidently  did,  the  leading  qualifications  to  form  a 
popular  preacher,  I  hailed  the  day  when  it  might  be  my 
privilege  to  introduce  him  in  some  form  to  the  elevated 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART.  63 

and  responsible  employment  of  the  ministry.  I  forget 
whether  he  then  said  much,  or  anything  to  me  respecting 
the  object  to  which  he  finally  directed  all  his  attention, 
the  work  of  a  Christian  missionary.  I  entertain  little  doubt, 
however,  that  he  then  thought  of  it ;  but  as  my  views  of 
his  talents  led  me  to  think  of  the  home,  rather  than  of 
the  foreign  service,  I  must  have  chiefly  directed  his  mind 
towards  the  former. 

While  he  was  at  home  during  this  vacation,  he  wrote  an 
essay  on  the  Nature  and  Design  of  the  Mission  of  the 
Saviour  on  Earth,  intended,  I  believe,  for  some  magazine, 
which  promised  a  prize  for  the  best  essay  on  the  subject. 
I  remember  that  he  showed  it  me ;  but  I  am  unable  to  say 
whether  he  sent  it.  His  accurate  knowledge  of  the  gospel, 
and  the  ease  with  which  he  could  express  himself  respect- 
ing its  nature  and  design  are  here  strikingly  illustrated. 
I  believe  it  is  the  first  piece  of  extended  composition  which 
he  wrote,  and  cannot  therefore  be  so  perfect  as  some  of 
his  subsequent  pieces.  But  the  language  requires  as  little 
apology  as  the  sentiment.  The  former  is  as  simple  as  the 
latter  is  dignified.* 

This  paper  contains  a  very  excellent  view  of  all  the 
leading  truths  of  the  gospel.  They  are  every  one  of  them 
stated  fairly,  and  are  all  blended  together  in  admirable 
harmony.  No  undue  importance  or  prominence  is  given 
to  any  one  topic,  while  the  practical  design  of  the  whole  is 
constantly  kept  in  view.  It  discovers  a  discrimination  and 
justness  of  conception,  as  well  as  an  extent  of  acquaint- 
ance with  divine  truth,  very  rarely  to  be  found  in  a  youth 
of  sixteen. 

Even  at  this  early  period,  and  while  so  little  accustomed 
*  See  Appendix  A. 


64  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

to  composition,  he  was  above  tlie  ambition  of  fine  writing. 
Here  is  no  attempt  at  it ;  and  yet  the  language  is  admir- 
able for  its  appropriateness  and  simplicity.  His  mind  was 
evidently  filled  with  the  importance  of  the  subject;  and 
from  the  abundance  of  his  heart  his  mouth  spake.  His 
only  object  was  to  express  himself  clearly  and  forcibly; 
and  in  this  he  completely  succeeded. 

My  personal  intercourse  with  him  was  shortly  after  this 
time  brought  nearly  to  a  close.  In  consequence  of  remov- 
ing to  London,  our  subsequent  connection  was  maintained 
chiefly  by  letters.  He  employed  himself,  of  his  own 
accord,  after  my  removal,  for  several  weeks,  in  making 
out  a  catalogue  of  my  library;  classifying  the  books,  as 
well  as  numbering  them  and  registering  their  titles.  It 
is  now  in  my  possession,  and  evinces,  at  once,  his  correct- 
ness and  diligence,  and  his  love  for  the  proprietor,  as  it 
must  have  cost  him  considerable  labour.  That  labour, 
however,  I  am  sure  he  never  thought  of;  it  gratified,  in  a 
small  degree,  his  love  of  books,  as  he  amused  himself  by 
looking  at  many  of  them  as  he  passed  them  through  his 
hands  ;  and  it  afforded  him  the  far  higher  gratification  of 
doing  an  unsolicited  service  to  a  friend  whom  he  loved.  I 
now  deeply,  but  unavailingly,  regret,  that  my  opportuni- 
ties of  personal  usefulness  to  him,  were  not,  on  my  part, 
sufficiently  cultivated.  I  too  often  neglected  the  present, 
by  anticipating  the  future ;  and  thus  allowed  many  occa- 
sions to  pass  away,  wliich  might  have  been  employed  in 
promoting  his  advancement  in  knowledge  and  piety. 
Still,  I  trust,  that  intercourse  was  not  altogether  without 
profit.  He  is  gone  before,  to  the  region  where  are  no 
defects.  May  it  be  my  privilege  to  follow,  and  to  meet 
him  there  at  last ! 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHAKT.  65 


CHAPTEH  III. 

Introduction  to  Dr.  Chalmers  —  Attends  the  Moral  Philosophy  class 
—  First  appearance  at  this  class  —  Letter  to  his  father,  on  the 
formation  of  the  University  Missionary  Society  —  On  the  same, 
and  other  topics  —  Mr,  Duff^s  account  of  the  progress  of  his  reli- 
gious views  —  Letter  to  his  parents,  on  the  death  of  a  younger 
brother  —  Letter  to  Mr.  Orme,  partly  on  the  same  subject  —  Let- 
ter to  his  mother  —  Letter  to  his  brother  —  Letter  to  his  sister  — 
Letter  to  an  afflicted  friend  —  Letter  to  the  same  —  His  diligence 
at  Dr.  Chalmers'  class  —  Letter  to  a  young  friend  —  Letter  to  his 
father — Success  during  the  third  session  at  College  —  View  of 
John's  talents  and  character  at  this  time,  by  a  fellow-student. 

Two  events  of  considerable  importance  belong  to  his 
return  to  St.  Andrew's,  for  the  third  session,  in  November, 
1824  —  his  introduction  to  Dr.  Chalmers,  and  attendance 
on  the  Moral  Philosophy  class,  taught  by  him ;  and  the 
formation  of  a  Missionary  Society  among  the  students  of 
the  University.  Of  the  Doctor,  young  Urquhart  had  long 
been  a  passionate  admirer ;  and,  to  be  one  of  his  pupils, 
was  the  object  of  his  most  ardent  desire.  He  was  too 
modest  to  anticipate  the  enjoyment  of  Dr.  Chalmers'  per- 
sonal friendship,  in  the  high  degree  in  which  he  afterwards 
enjoyed  it ;  but  which  it  is  evident  was  most  gratifying  to 
both  parties. 

Moral  Philosophy,  as  it  has  been  usually  taught  at  the 
Scottish  Universities,  is  one  of  the  most  dangerous  and 
ensnaring  studies  in  which  a  young  man  can  engage.  In- 
stead of  being,  as  the  designation  of  the  science  imports, 
6* 


66  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

the  philosophy  of  morals,  it  is  commonly  treated  as  the 
philosophy  of  mind,  and  is  chiefly  directed  to  the  varied 
and  perplexing  phenomena  of  mental  perception  and  ope- 
ration. Instead  of  connecting  ethics  with  the  revealed 
will  of  God,  it  has  too  often  been  employed  to  gender 
scepticism,  and  foster  the  pride  of  intellect.  Hume  and 
Malebranche,  Berkeley  and  Reid,  are  more  frequently 
appealed  to  than  the  writers  of  the  Bible ;  and  many  a 
young  man  who  went  with  his  principles  tolerably  correct, 
if  not  altogether  established,  has  left  the  class  a  sceptic, 
or  a  confirmed  unbeliever.  The  occupation  of  this  chair 
by  such  a  man  as  Dr.  Chalmers  is  of  incalculable  import- 
ance. It  secures  against  the  danger  of  those  speculations 
which  — 

"  Lead  to  bewilder,  and  dazzle  to  blind," 

and  provides  that  morals  shall  not  become  the  enemy,  but 
the  handmaid  of  religion. 

With  missionary  objects,  young  Urquhart's  early  asso- 
ciations had  made  him  familiar ;  and  his  mind  having  be- 
come deeply  impressed  with  the  importance  of  eternal 
things,  he  was  exceedingly  desirous  of  interesting  others 
in  the  noble  object  of  missionary  exertion. 

Of  his  first  appearance  in  the  Moral  Philosophy  class, 
and,  also  of  the  exertion  which  he  made  to  accomplish  the 
other  object,  I  have  been  furnished  with  a  short  account, 
by  his  bosom  friend,  and  contemplated  associate  in  foreign 
labours,  Mr.  John  Adam.  The  following  extract  from  a 
letter  to  me  relates  to  both :  — 

"My  first  acquaintance  with  John  Urquhart,  com- 
menced at  St.  Andrew's,  in  the  winter  of  1824.     I  had 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART.  67 

gone  chiefly  for  the  sake  of  Dr.  Chalmers'  Lectures  to 
that  University;  and,  besides  my  brother,  was  totally 
unacquainted  with  any  of  the  students.  The  first  subject 
given  out  as  an  essay  to  the  class,  was  on  the  divisions  of 
philosophy.  The  Doctor  had  introduced  us  to  his  depart- 
ment of  the  academical  course,  by  some  general  observa- 
tions on  this  topic.  He  wished  us  each  to  give  an  abstract 
in  our  own  terms,  before  entering  on  the  main  business  of 
our  investigating  moral  philosophy.  Not  as  yet  familiar 
with  any  of  my  fellows,  I  was  particularly  struck  when 
one  of  the  youngest  in  the  class,  with  simple  dignity, 
(though,  as  he  told  me  afterwards,  with  great  perturba- 
tion of  mind,)  read  an  essay,  which,  for  purity  of  style,  for 
beauty  of  imagery,  and  a  masterly  delineation  of  thought, 
exceeded  everything  we  had  then  heard.  Nor  could  I  but 
rejoice,  when  at  the  conclusion,  a  universal  burst  of  admira- 
tion (which  was  evidently  participated  in  by  the  Professor), 
proceeded  from  all  present.  I  need  only. say,  that  his 
character,  thus  established,  was  maintained  during  the 
whole  course.  The  decision  of  the  prize,  both  by  Dr. 
Chalmers  and  his  fellow-students,  awarded  him  the  first 
honour  they  had  it  in  their  power  to  bestow. 

"  Soon  after  his  first  appearance  in  the  class,  I  was 
happily  introduced  to  him,  at  the  house  of  one  of  Mr. 
Lothian's  deacons,  a  Mr.  Smith,  when  he  mentioned  a 
plan  he  was  then  meditating :  viz.,  to  attempt  the  forma- 
tion of  a  Missionary  Society,  such  as  they  had  at  Glas- 
gow, which  should  not  be  confined  to  the  Hall  of  The- 
ology. This  project  was  carried  into  efi'ect  a  few  days 
after ;  and  a  number  of  names  having  been  collected  from 
the  Philosophy  College,  a  junction  was  formed  with  a  small 


68  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

society  that  had  already  existed  amongst  the  students  of 
divinity. 

"  During  the  term  of  this  session,  my  friendship  for 
John  was  cemented ;  and  by  studying  together,  by  walks, 
and  frequent  intercourse,  we  became  so  attached,  that, 
not  to  have  seen  one  another  for  a  few  hours,  was  an 
extraordinary  occurrence." 

In  a  letter  to  his  father,  of  the  date  of  November  the 
3d,  he  communicates  some  particulars  on  the  same  subjects. 

"  My  Dear  Father  —  I  arrived  safe  here  the  same  day 
I  left  you,  and  am  again  very  comfortably  settled  in  my 
old  lodgings. 

"  We  have  been  attempting  to  form  a  Missionary  So- 
ciety in  our  College,  to  co-operate  with  one  which  the 
divinity  students  formed  last  year.  We  do  not  expect 
very  large  contributions,  and  the  assistance  which  we  can 
render  to  the  cause  may  be,  comparatively,  but  trifling : 
but  the  great  object  we  have  in  view  is  to  obtain  and  cir- 
culate missionary  intelligence  among  the  students  ;  a  thing 
which,  we  trust,  with  the  blessing  of  God,  may  prove  use- 
ful to  themselves ;  and,  though  not  directly  aiding  the 
cause,  may,  in  the  end,  prove  highly  beneficial  to  it.  For 
this  purpose,  we  propose  holding  monthly  meetings  for  the 
purpose  of  reading  reports,  and  conducting  the  other  busi- 
ness of  the  society.  We  wish  also,  if  possible,  to  collect  a 
small  library  of  books  connected  with  the  subject;  and 
what  I  have  chiefly  in  view  in  writing  to  you  about  it  is, 
that  you  may  send  any  reports,  or  sermons,  or  other  works, 
connected  with  missions,  which  you  can  obtain.  You  may 
mention  the  thing  to  any  of  our  friends  who  you  think 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART.  69 

could  favour  us  with  any  of  such  publications,  which  will 
be  very  thankfully  received.  The  formation  of  such  society 
in  such  circumstances  is,  I  think,  peculiarly  interesting; 
and  may,  if  properly  conducted,  be  productive  of  the  most 
interesting  results ;  and  I  am  sure  the  friends  of  the  Saviour 
will  be  happy  to  assist  us  in  our  operations.  In  asking 
for  subscriptions,  we  have  hitherto  met  with  no  refusals ; 
and,  though  we  have  not  yet  got  many,  I  have  no  doubt 
but  it  will  succeed." 

The  following,  written  a  little  after  this,  notices  the 
state  of  St.  Andrew's,  and  some  other  things  relating  to 
the  formation  of  the  University  Missionary  Society :  — 

"  St.  Andrew's,  December  15,  1824. 

"My Dear  Father — As  I  do  not  intend  coming  home 
at  Christmas ;  and,  as  it  will  be  some  time  before  I  need  to 
send  my  box,  I  sit  down  to  write  you  a  few  lines  at  pre- 
sent. I  received  yours  along  with  a  parcel  containing  a 
new  watch,  about  a  fortnight  ago ;  for  which  I  feel  very 
grateful.  I  am  as  comfortably  situated  this  year  as  I 
could  wish.  I  have  been  introduced  to  some  very  excel- 
lent companions  at  Dr.  Chalmers'  class.  The  Doctor  has 
brought  a  good  number  of  students  from  other  Universi- 
ties, many  of  them  of  very  polished  manners,  and,  I  think, 
not  a  few  of  very  decided  piety. 

"  The  Doctor  has  thus  not  only  increased  the  number 
of  the  students,  (which,  this  year,  amounts  to  about  two 
hundred  and  fifty ;)  but  those  who  have  come  for  his  sake, 
being  mostly  of  evangelical  principles,  he  has  thus,  though 
indirectly,  wrought  a  great  change  on  the  religious  aspect 
of  our  University.    It  is  to  this  chiefly,  that  I  would  attri- 


M  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

bute  tlie  success  with  which  my  efforts  have  been  crowned, 
in  attempting  to  form  a  missionary  society  in  our  College. 
We  have  got  about  forty  subscribers,  and  have  already 
had  two  meetings,  which  we  purpose  to  continue  monthly. 
There  have  also  been  formed  a  number  of  Sabbath-schools, 
one  of  which  is  taught  by  Dr.  Chalmers  himself,  and  the 
rest  by  students.  And,  besides  this,  several  meetings  are 
held,  by  select  parties  of  students,  for  social  worship. 
Such  a  change,  I  did  not  certainly  expect  to  see  in  my 
day.  And  this  has  not  all  gone  on  without  opposition. 
Not  only  were  we  refused  a  room  in  the  College  for  our 
missionary  meetings,  but  the  minds  of  the  people  of  the 
town  are  so  influenced  that,  even  yet,  we  are  not  quite 
sure  of  a  place  to  meet  in  regularly. 

"  On  the  whole,  our  College  seems,  at  present,  to  present 
an  aspect  something  similar  to  that  of  the  University  of 
Oxford,  in  the  days  of  Hervey  and  Wesley.  Among  the 
rest  of  my  class-fellows,  there  is  a  young  man  who  seems 
to  be  very  zealous  in  the  cause  of  truth.  He  goes  out  to 
the  country  and  preaches  every  Sabbath  afternoon,  at  a 
place  called  Dunino ;  a  place  very  much  neglected ;  and 
on  Sabbath  evenings,  he  has  a  meeting  of  fishermen,  to 
whom  he  preaches. 

"With  all  this  to  render  me  happy,  the  remark  of  the 
shepherd  of  Salisbury  Plain  is  still  applicable  to  me :  that 
'Every  man  has  his  black  ewe;'  I  have  not  been  able  to 
get  any  teaching,"  &c. 

These  letters  show  how  much  his  mind  was  now  occupied 
w^ith  promoting  the  spirit  of  missionary  enterprise  among 
his  fellow-students.  Instead  of  wondering  that  he  should 
have  met,  at  first,  with  some  opposition  to  his  plans,  when 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUIIART.  71 

•we  consider  the  materials  of  which  colleges  consist,  it  is 
rather  surprising,  he  should  have  been  so  successful.  The 
state  of  religious  zeal  in  the  University  of  St.  Andrew's, 
had,  for  many  years,  approached  nearer  to  the  freezing 
than  to  the  boiling  point.  The  first  attempt,  therefore,  to 
rouse  and  kindle  the  flame,  could  not  fail  to  produce  a  cer- 
tain degree  of  commotion.  This,  however,  our  young 
friend,  and  his  associates  met  in  a  Christian  manner,  and 
overcame  by  their  prudence  and  good  sense.  Dr.  Chal- 
mers was  early  engaged  in  its  support ;  and  others  of  the 
Professors  also  came  afterwards  to  encoui-age  it.  His 
friend,  Mr.  Duff,  gives  the  following  account  of  the  pro- 
gress of  John's  religious  views  and  feelings  at  this  time, 
and  of  his  exertions  in  forming  the  Missionary  Society 
among  the  students  :  — 

"At  the  beginning  of  the  session  of  1824-5,  the  traces 
of  a  gathering  and  growing  piety  were  very  observable. 
*  Out  of  the  fulness  of  the  heart  the  mouth  speaketh;'  and, 
accordingly,  religious  subjects  became  with  him,  the  great, 
the  constant,  the  delightful  theme  of  conversation.  Chris- 
tianity was  not  now  with  him,  a  mere  round  of  observ- 
ances —  a  matter  of  cold  and  heartless  formality.  It 
engrossed  all  his  thoughts,  it  gave  a  direction  to  all  his 
actions ;  and  his  chief  concern  was  how  to  promote  the 
cause  of  his  Redeemer.  One  evening,  early  in  the  session, 
a  few  of  his  companions  met  In  his  room.  The  main  topic 
of  conversation  was  the  blindness  of  the  understandincr, 
and  the  hardness  of  the  heart,  with  its  entire  alienation 
from  God.  This  led  to  a  discussion  upon  the  Influences 
of  the  Spirit  in  removing  the  various  obstacles  that  oppose 
the  reception  of  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus.     On  this  sub- 


72  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

ject  Mr.  Urquhart's  thonghts  were  striking,  and  his  views 
luminous.  Our  attention  was  then  directed  to  the  resist- 
ance made  to  the  offers  of  the  gospel  by  the  men  of  the 
world,  and  the  want  of  universality  in  its  propagation. 
The  efforts  of  enlightened  Christians  in  publishing  the 
glad  tidings  of  salvation,  and  the  operations  of  missionary 
societies,  were  then  largely  spoken  of.  The  vast,  the* 
paramount  importance  of  this  object  as  involving  the  in- 
terests of  time  and  eternity,  was  acknowledged  by  all. 
The  question  was  suggested.  Is  it  not  possible  to  form  a 
Missionary  Society  among  the  students  ?  By  some  the 
idea  was  reckoned  chimerical,  from  the  coldness  and 
apathy  well  known  to  prevail  among  the  members  of  the 
University.  By  others,  among  whom  was  Mr.  Urquhart, 
it  was  strenuously  urged,  that  a  vigorous  effort  should,  at 
least,  be  made  for  the  purpose  of  forming  an  association 
for  the  promotion  of  so  good  a  cause.  I  cannot  now  state 
the  precise  amount  of  influence  which  Mr.  Urquhart's 
arguments  had  on  those  present ;  only  he  was  most  urgent 
and  impressive  in  maintaining  the  propriety  of  the  scheme, 
and  its  probability  of  success.  Paper  was  accordingly 
produced,  and  the  prevailing  sentiments  stated :  the  object 
being  to  procure  a  suflicient  number  of  subscribers  friendly 
to  the  missionary  cause,  to  justify  the  formaton  of  a  society. 
A  small  association  of  divinity  students  had  met  on  the  pre- 
ceding year,  in  a  private  room,  with  the  intention  of  review- 
ing and  supporting  missions.  It  was  suggested,  therefore, 
that  a  union  might  be  formed  between  the  divinity  and 
philosophy  students,  (in  the  event  of  the  latter  coming  for- 
ward,) so  as  to  form  an  active  and  efficient  body  of  mem- 
bers. The  whole  scheme,  so  ably  advocated  by  Mr. 
.Urquhart,  succeeded  far  beyond  the  most  sanguine  expec- 


MEMOIE    OF    JOHN    TTRQUHART.  73 

tatlons.  And  thus  originated  tlie  St.  Andrew's  University- 
Missionary  Society,  which  now  ranks  among  its  friends 
and  'supporters  more  than  one-third  of  all  attending  the 
University." 

As  this  society  occupied  so  much  of  his  thoughts,  and 
was,  in  fact,  productive  of  some  very  important  results  to 
himself  and  others ;  and,  as  the  mode  of  conducting  its 
affairs  was  formed  very  much  after  the  model  of  the  St. 
Andrew's  Missionary  Society,  of  which  Dr.  Chalmers  was 
the  President,  I  am  glad  that  I  can  give  some  account  (£ 
the  latter  from,  his  pen.  It  was  furnished  to  "  The  St. 
Andrew's  University  Magazine,"  a  small  monthly  work, 
published  by  those  of  the  young  men  attending  the  theo- 
logical and  philosophy  classes ;  and  to  which  Urquhart 
was  an  occasional  contributor.  Though  written  the  fol- 
lowing year,  it  may  be  read  appropriately  in  connection 
with  the  present  period  of  my  young  friend's  life.* 

The  interesting  views  and  reasonings  of  this  well-written 
paper  are  deserving  of  attention  from  the  friends  of  mis- 
sions. It  shows  how  much  may  be  made  of  this  subject 
by  men  of  a  discursive  and  philosopic  turn  of  mind ;  and 
w^ere  missionary  meetings  occasionally  conducted  in  the 
manner  pursued  by  Dr.  Chalmers,  they  would  prove  more 
interesting  and  instructive  than  they  often  do.  Consider- 
ing the  period  during  which  exertion  has  been  made  to 
propagate  Christianity  among  the  heathen,  and  the  number 
of  persons  who  are  employed  in  the  work,  both  at  home 
and  abroad,  it  is  surprising  that  some  work,  on  what  might 
be  called  the  philosophy  of  missions,  has  not  yet  appeared. 
The  only  things,  approaching  to  this  character,  are  the 

"^  See  Appendix  B. 

7 


71  MEMOIUOFJOnNURQUHART. 

"Hints  on  Missions,"  by  Mr.  Douglas,  of  Cavers;  and 
the  work  on  "  The  Advancement  of  Society,"  by  the  same 
highly  gifted  individual.  But  the  former  of  these  produc- 
tions too  accurately  corresponds  with  its  title,  to  answer 
the  purpose  to  which  I  refer  ;  and  in  the  other,  the  subject 
is  only  noticed  as  one  among  many.  From  these  works, 
however,  the  germ  of  a  highly  valuable  essay  on  the 
subject  of  Christian  Missions  to  the  heathen  might  be 
obtained. 

What  we  want  is  not  an  increase  of  reports  of  yearly 
proceedings,  and  arguments  derived  from  the  Scriptures, 
to  persuade  us  that  it  is  our  duty  to  engage  in  this  good 
work ;  but  a  condensed  view  of  the  knowledge  and  experi- 
ence which  have  been  acquired  during  the  last  thirty  or 
forty  years.  What  appear  to  be  the  best  fields  of  labour  ? 
—  what  the  most  successful  mode  of  cultivating  them  ?  — 
what  the  kind  of  agency  which  has  been  most  efficient,  and 
least  productive  of  disappointment  ? — what  the  best  method 
of  training  at  home,  for  the  labours  and  self-denial  to  be 
encountered  abroad  ?  —  whether  are  detached  and  separate 
missions,  or  groups  of  missions  and  depots  of  missionaries, 
the  most  desirable  ?  These,  and  many  other  questions, 
require  a  mature  and  deliberate  answer.  The  materials 
for  such  an  answer  exist.  And  can  none  of  the  officers 
whose  time  is  wholly  devoted  to  the  management  of  our 
Missionary  Societies  furnish  such  a  digest  ?  Are  they  so 
entirely  occupied  with  the  details  of  business,  as  to  have 
no  time  or  inclination  left  for  looking  at  general  princi- 
ples ?  Were  more  attention  paid  to  the  ascertaining  of 
such  principles,  and  more  vigour  and  consistency  mani- 
fested in  prosecuting  them,  there  might  be  less  of  glare 
and  noise;   but,  assuredly,  there  would  be  a  prodigious 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART.  Y5 

saying  of  labour,  property,  and  life ;   and,  in  the  end,  a 
greater  degree  of  satisfaction  and  real  success. 

"  The  first  requisite  in  benevolent  operations,"  says  Mr. 
Douglas,  "  as  in  all  other  undertakings,  is  system  ;  a  fixed- 
ness of  design,  and  a  steady  adaptation  of  the  means  to  the 
end.  Opposite  to  that  of  system,  is  the  pursuing  of  what 
are  called  openings,  or  the  being  caught  with  every  change 
of  circumstances  and  drawn  by  every  chance  of  success 
into  new  paths  of  pursuit,  having  no  connection  with  each 
other,  and  leading  to  remote  terminations.  Every  step 
gained  in  a  system,  strengthens ;  every  step  gained  with- 
out it  weakens.  The  first  object  acquired  leads  to  the 
possession  of  the  second,  and  that  to  the  attainment  of  the 
third,  if  all  the  objects  to  be  attained  are  originally  chosen 
with  reference  to  the  accomplishment  of  a  plan.  Every 
new  object,  where  there  is  no  system,  divides  the  already 
scattered  forces ;  and  success,  if  pursued,  might  dissipate 
them  entirely,  and  leave  but  the  vain  pleasure  of  having 
a  number  of  defenceless  stations,  each  calling  for  assist- 
ance, and  all  calling  in  vain,  while  the  society  only  re- 
tained the  empty  boast  of  an  extended  line  of  operations, 
and  of  being  equally  helpless  and  inefficient  in  every  quar- 
ter of  the  globe.  On  a  system,  each  part  strengthens  the 
other,  the  line  of  communication  is  held  up  entire ;  as  each 
point  is  gained,  the  whole  advances ;  they  are  all  in  move- 
ment towards  the  same  position,  and  they  rest  upon  the 
same  centre  of  support." 

I  cannot  pursue  the  subject  further,  but  the  existing 
circumstances  of  our  missionary  institutions  call  loudly  for 
the  consideration  of  these  judicious  remarks.  I  retui-n  to 
the  narrative. 

Not  satisfied  with  his  exertions  in  establishing  and  aid- 


fifi  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

ing  a  missionary  society,  and  thus  contributing  to  diffuse 
the  gospel  abroad,  John  felt  it  his  duty  to  do  all  the  good 
in  his  poAver  to  those  among  whom  he  lived.  This  led  him 
at  the  commencement  of  this  session  to  engage  in  teaching 
a  Sabbath-school,  in  a  village  a  few  miles  distance  from 
St.  Andrew's.  To  this  place  he  was  in  the  habit  of  going 
regularly  every  Lord's  day  evening,  and  occasionally, 
also,  on  other  days,  when  he  could  find  time,  for  the  pur- 
pose of  conversing  with  the  parents ;  thus  endeavour- 
ing to  interest  them  in  the  spiritual  welfare  of  their  chil- 
dren, and  in  their  regular  attendance  at  the  school. 

These  engagements  have  often  been  productive  of  the 
most  beneficial  effects  on  young  men  intended  for  the 
ministry,  as  well  as  on  the  minds  of  the  rising  generation. 
They  stimulate  to  the  examination  of  the  Scriptures, 
accustom  the  teacher  to  an  easy  and  familiar  method  of 
speaking  and  address ;  and  increase  his  acquaintance  with 
the  peculiarities  of  human  character.  The  difficulties  he 
experiences  in  conducting  such  seminaries,  and  accom- 
plishing his  wishes,  will  be  found  to  arise  from  many  of 
the  same  causes  which  operate  on  the  "  children  of  a 
larger  growth,"  whom  he  may  afterwards  be  called  to 
instruct.  And  the  mode  of  meeting  these  difficulties  by  a 
combination  of  faithfulness  and  affection,  of  perseverance 
and  prayer,  will  habituate  him  to  the  exercise  of  principles 
and  dispositions  of  the  last  importance,  in  discharging  the 
duties  of  the  Christian  ministry. 

To  this  kind  of  service  my  young  friend  was  much 
attached,  as  well  from  choice  as  from  principle  and  a 
sense  of  duty.  He  was  sensible  of  the  benefit  which 
he  derived  from  it  himself;  and,  therefore,  wherever  he 
was,  though  but  for  a  short  time,  he  endeavom-ed  to  collect 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART.  77 

a  few  young  persons  around  him.  From  the  great  amia- 
bility of  his  disposition,  he  never  failed  to  bring  them  to- 
gether, and  to  attach  them  to  him ;  and,  from  his  happy 
method  of  engaging  their  attention,  he  was  always  re- 
warded, in  seeing  their  love  to  the  exercise,  as  well  as 
their  personal  attachment  to  himself.  On  his  return  home, 
at  the  end  of  the  session,  he  succeeded  in  establishing  a 
meeting  of  a  few  young  men,  of  his  own  age,  in  his  father's 
house,  once  a  week,  for  conversing  about  the  Scriptures, 
and  for  prayer ;  the  benefit  of  which  some  of  them,  I  hope 
may  yet  enjoy.  While  there,  also,  during  the  summer 
vacation,  he  taught  a  Sabbath-school  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  Perth ;  thus  evincing  his  sincerity  and  diligence  in  the 
improvement  of  every  opportunity  of  usefulness  which  he 
could  command. 

Having  noticed  his  feelings  and  views  in  regard  to  per- 
sonal religion,  and  to  the  work  of  the  gospel  abroad,  and  his 
exertions  to  promote  its  interests  at  home,  it  will  now  be 
proper  to  advert  to  his  progress  in  his  literary  pursuits, 
especially  in  that  class  in  which  he  made  so  distinguished 
a  figure.  A  certain  description  of  persons,  who  are  not 
altogether  opposed  to  religion,  but  who  feel  exceedingly 
cool  in  regard  to  its  claims,  both  upon  themselves  and 
others,  are  much  disposed  to  allege,  that  if  the  attention 
of  a  young  person  is  much  occupied  with  religious  sub- 
jects, other  things  which  he  ought  to  pursue,  must  be 
neglected.  It  is  admitted  that  there  is  some  difficulty  in 
perfectly  adjusting  the  relative  and  proportionate  claims 
of  religious  and  other  pursuits,  especially  during  the  more 
active  period  of  human  life.  Wisdom  is  necessary  to 
direct  in  this,  and  in  many  other  matters,  which  cannot 

be  determined  by  the  language  of  the  Scriptures.    To  which 

7* 


78  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

preference  is  due,  no  doubt  can  be  entertained.  "Seek 
ye  first  the  kingdom  of  God  and  his  righteousness,"  is 
a  plain  injunction  applicable  to  all  circumstances,  and  at 
all  periods  of  our  existence.  True  wisdom  consists  in 
obeying  that  injunction,  which  will  never  fail  to  secure 
the  fulfilment  of  the  promise,  ''  and  all  these  things  shall 
be  added  unto  you."  Should  there  be  in  any  instance  an 
excess  in  devoting  what  may  be  considered  too  large  a 
portion  of  attention  to  religion,  surely  it  is  a  very  pardon- 
able ojQTence.  If  it  be  an  error,  it  is  an  error  on  the  safe 
side.  Allowances  are  made  for  individuals  following  the 
bent  of  a  powerful  genius,  when  that  genius  is  directed 
towards  some  earthly  object ;  but,  unhappily,  if  the  bent 
of  the  mind  is  toward  religion,  the  feeling  which  is  mani- 
fested is  very  different.  What  is  an  amiable  and  praise- 
worthy enthusiasm  in  the  one  case,  is  denounced  as  miser- 
able and  misguided  fanaticism  in  the  other.  The  conduct 
which  raises  an  artist  or  a  poet  to  the  summit  of  earthly 
glory,  places  a  Wliitefield  and  a  Martyn  in  the  pillory  of 
the  world's  scorn. 

It  is  no  common  thing  to  find  a  mind  so  nicely  poised 
and  balanced,  as  to  be  capable  of  giving  every  subject  of 
examination  its  proper  degree  of  attention,  and  every 
object  of  pursuit  its  just  measure  of  importance.  It  will 
too  generally  happen  that  when  one  thing,  whether  of  a 
secular  or  spiritual  nature,  obtains  firm  possession  of  the 
mind,  other  things  will,  to  a  certain  extent,  be  dislodged. 
There  is  usually,  to  employ  the  expressive  phraseology  of 
Dr.  Chalmers,  "  a  shooting  forth  of  the  mind  in  one  direc- 
tion ;"  and  when  this  happens,  other  things  must  be 
obscured  and  left  behind.  If,  according  to  Spurzheim, 
the  faculty  of  common  sense  consists  in  the  harmonious 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART.  79 

arrangement  and  operation  of  all  the  other  senses,  it  is 
very  evident  that  the  faculty  is  by  no  means  so  common 
as  the  phrase  imports. 

As  it  regards  religionj  however,  I  am  inclined  to  think, 
this  is  one  of  the  libels  which  its  enemies  are  ever  disposed 
to  propagate  against  it.  They  maintain  in  the  face  of  all 
evidence,  that  the  men  who  are  clamorous  on  the  subject 
of  the  spiritual  wants  of  others,  are  usually  defective  in 
their  generosity  to  supply  their  temporal  necessities.  In 
vain  we  appeal  to  our  Howards  and  Wilberforces,  and 
thousands  besides,  in  refutation  of  the  calumny.  It  will 
be  reiterated  till  the  world  is  regenerated. 

I  apprehend  that  it  will  often  be  found  that  our  reli- 
gious men  are  among  the  most  ardent  and  devoted  students. 
Few  men  have  distinguished  themselves  more  when  at 
College,  than  Martyn,  and  Kirke  White ;  and  I  am  happy 
that  I  can  add  the  name  of  Urquhart  to  the  list  of  per- 
sons, who,  under  the  noblest  considerations,  devoted  their 
fine  talents  and  unconquerable  ardour  to  the  pursuits  of 
literature  and  science,  that  they  might  lay  their  crowns  as 
scholars  at  the  foot  of  the  cross. 

I  hesitated  for  some  time  whether  I  should  give  a  few 
of  his  essays  in  the  Moral  Philosophy  class ;  fearing  they 
might  not  do  full  justice  to  his  merits,  and  that  to  some 
readers  they  might  not  be  sufficiently  interesting.  But, 
knowing  the  opinion  of  these  essays,  entertained  by  such 
a  man  as  Dr.  Chalmers,  and  observing  the  beautiful 
simplicity  of  language  and  felicity  of  illustration  which 
they  discover ;  by  which  the  most  abstruse  subjects  are 
rendered  not  only  intelligible,  but  attractive,  I  have  re- 
solved to  present  them.     The  reader  will  thus  see  that  he 


60  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQTJHART. 

who  was  so  much  at  home  in  religion,  was  not  a  stranger 
in  the  walks  of  philosophy.* 

While  engaged  in  these  interesting  exercises  of  his 
academical  course,  and  in  the  prosecution  of  his  plans  of 
usefulness,  he  was  called  to  sustain  a  painful  trial,  in  the 
death  of  his  youngest  brother.  Nothing  of  this  kind  had 
before  occurred  in  the  family,  within  his  knowledge.  He 
was  suddenly  summoned  to  Perth ;  and  after  spending  a 
few  days  by  the  dying  bed  of  his  brother,  and  endeavour- 
ing to  interest  his  mind  in  religion,  he  returned  to  St. 
Andrew's,  as  the  nature  of  the  complaint  left  it  very  un- 
certain how  long  his  brother  might  continue.  On  being 
informed  of  his  death  he  wrote  to  his  father  and  mother, 
as  follows :  — 

"  St.  Andrew's,  January  17,  1825. 
"My  Dear  Parents  —  It  is  a  remark  which  I  have 
somewhere  heard,  that  God  tries  to  bring  us  to  himself  by 
mercies ;  but  if  this  has  not  the  effect,  he  makes  use  of 
trials.  Like  the  affectionate  father  of  rebellious  and  dis- 
obedient children,  he  tries  to  win  us  by  love ;  and  it  is 
only  our  obstinate  perseverance  in  our  own  ways  which 
forces  him  to  use  the  rod.  It  is  true,  that  our  very  afflic- 
tions are  signs  of  God's  love  towards  us ;  for,  ^  whom  he 
loveth  he  chasteneth.'  But  it  is  equally  true,  that  they 
are  signs  of  his  displeasure.  We,  as  a  family,  have  long 
been  favoured  with  every  blessing ;  and  it  becomes  us  to 
ask,  if  we  have  been  as  grateful  and  as  obedient  as  became 
the  children  of  so  many  mercies.  A  serious  review  of  the 
past,  will  make  us  wonder  that  our  Father  has  been  so 
long-suffering ;  that  he  has  withheld  his  chastening  hand 
*  See  Appendix  C. 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART.  81 

SO  long.  It  becomes  us,  then,  to  repent  of  our  unthankful 
and  repining  disposition,  and  to  humble  ourselves  under 
the  mighty  hand  of  God. 

"  It  is  a  joyful  thing,  that,  in  the  time  of  affliction,  God 
does  not  hide  his  face  from  us,  nor  remove  us  far  from 
him.  But  it  is  the  very  end  of  all  our  trials  to  bring  us 
to  himself  by  drying  up  our  channels  of  happiness,  to  lead 
us  to  the  spring  from  whence  those  channels  were  sup- 
plied ;  by  breaking  the  cisterns  which  we  have  hewed  out 
for  ourselves,  to  lead  us  to  the  fountain  of  living  waters. 

"  I  think  I  may  say,  '  it  has  been  good  for  me  to  be 
afflicted ;'  it  has  driven  me  to  the  Bible,  and  to  a  throne 
of  grace,  as  the  only  consolations ;  and  never  did  the 
truths  of  the  gospel  appear  more  precious.  My  Christian 
friends  here  have  been  very  attentive  to  me,  and  seem  to 
have  sympathized  with  me  in  earnest. 

*'  This  is  certainly  a  warning  to  each  of  us,  to  be  also 
ready  —  a  solemn  exhortation  to  be  active  in  the  cause  of 
Christ ;  and  whatever  our  hand  finds  to  do,  to  do  it  with 
all  our  might;  knowing  that  there  is  no  knowledge  nor 
device  in  the  grave  whither  we  are  fast  hastening. 

"I  am  anxious  to  know  what  impression  this  solemn 
event  has  made  on  the  minds  of  my  yet  remaining  brother 
and  sister.  Death  can  sometimes  affect  the  soul  which  has 
been  unmoved  by  the  most  solemn  admonitions,  and  the 
most  impressive  eloquence.  I  am  very  sorry  that  it  is  out 
of  my  power  at  present  to  write  to  them. 

*'  The  ways  of  God  are  very  mysterious.  Had  I  been 
here  during  the  Christmas  holidays,  I  could,  in  all  proba- 
bility, have  got  a  situation,  w^hich  would  have  enabled  me 
to  support  myself,  and  even,  in  a  year  or  two,  to  have 
given  you  some  assistance.     It  was  a  situation  as  tutor  in 


S2  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

a  very  pious  family  in  England.  I  had  been  recommended 
as  a  fit  person  for  the  place,  but  as  it  had  to  be  occupied 
immediately,  it  was  given  to  another,  who  is  there  by  this 
time.  From  all  the  accounts  I  got  of  it,  it  seemed  a  place 
where  I  could  have  been  very  happy;  and  I  could  not 
help  feeling  disappointed.  But  it  is  a  happiness  to  think 
that  it  is  a  gracious  Father  that  overrules  all  things ;  and 
that  he  does  all  things  well. 

"P.  S.  Give  me  a  more  full  account  of  the  latter  part 
of  my  poor  brother's  illness." 

Shortly  after  this,  he  wrote  me  a  long  letter,  partly  on 
the  same  subject,  and  partly  giving  me  an  account  of  vari- 
ous affairs  then  transacting  in  St.  Andrew's,  which  he 
knew  would  interest  me. 

"St.  Andrew's,  February  18,  1825. 
"My  Dear  Sir  —  I  am  really  quite  ashamed  that  I 
have  not  sent  you  a  letter  long  before  now.     I  intended 

writing  by  Dr.  E ,  when  I  sent  up  the  catalogue  of 

your  library ;  but  it  occurred  to  me  that  at  such  an  early 
period  of  your  new  settlement,  when  you  must  have  been 
so  much  occupied  with  the  bustle  and  the  confusion  attend- 
ing such  an  event,  it  would  have  been  altogether  out  of 
place  for  me  to  trouble  you  with  a  letter.  It  is  now  a 
month  or  two  since  my  father  informed  me  in  one  of  his 
letters,  that  he  had  heard  from  you,  and  that  you  had 
kindly  expressed  a  wish  that  I  would  wi'ite  to  you  from 
St.  Andrew's.  I  really  have  no  proper  excuse  for  delay- 
ing so  long ;  suffice  it  to  say,  that  this  is  not  the  first  time 
I  have  sat  down  to  address  you ;  and  that  I  might  fill  my 
sheet  to  no  purpose,  in  telling  how  often  I  have  taken  up 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART.  83 

the  pen,  and  what  circumstances  have  hitherto  prevented 
me  from  finishing  my  letter.  You  have,  in  all  probability, 
heard  before  now,  that  death  has  at  last  entered  our 
family,  and  has  snatched  away  the  youngest  and  healthiest 
of  us  all.  Poor  Henry  had  thought  himself  dying  from 
the  first  day  he  took  to  his  bed,  and  had  expressed  a  great 
desire  that  I  should  be  sent  for.  My  father  accordingly 
sent  for  me;  and  on  my  arrival  at  home,  I  found  my 
brother  in  a  state  of  very  great  agony,  and  quite  unable 
to  converse  with  me.  I  was  anxious  to  speak  to  him 
about  that  world  whither  he  was  evidently  fast  hastening; 
but  so  excruciating  was  his  pain,  that  he  could  not  listen. 
I  can  remember,  when  I  asked  him,  after  he  had  been 
violently  crying  out  from  the  pain  in  his  head,  what  was 
the  cause  of  all  his  suffering,  how  expressively  he  an- 
swered, that  it  was  sin.  And  at  another  time,  on  asking 
him  if  he  was  afraid  to  die ;  he  told  me.  No.  But  these 
short  answers  were  all  I  could  obtain  from  him ;  the  pain- 
ful nature  of  his  distress  did  not  permit  longer  conversa- 
tion. After  staying  at  home  about  a  week,  I  found  that 
I  was  waiting  for  a  change  which  might  yet  be  far  dis- 
tant ;  and  that  I  was  losing  my  own  time  without  being 
able  to  render  any  service  to  my  brother.  I  therefore 
resolved  to  return ;  but  I  think  I  shall  never  forget  the 
bitterness  of  that  parting.  I  felt  far  more  then,  than 
when  I  heard  afterwards,  that  my  brother  was  gone. 
Henry  begged  of  me  not  to  go  away,  and  my  mother  with 
tears  entreated  me  to  remain ;  but  I  thought  it  my  duty 
to  leave  them ;  and  in  the  issue,  it  has  proved  much  better 
that  I  did  so ;  for  my  brother  lingered  for  weeks  after.  I 
cannot  say  whether  I  was  more  depressed  or  relieved  by 
the  letter  which  brought  the  tidings  of  liis  death.     I  re- 


M  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

joice  to  think  that  his  body  was  freed  from  very  exquisite 
suifering ;  but  with  regard  to  his  soul  all  was  uncertain. 
I  would  indulge  the  hope,  that  his  suffering  may  have  been 
r^dered  the  means  of  bringing  him  to  trust  in  that 
Saviour  about  whom  he  had  so^often  heard.  But  it  rests 
with  God.  To  us  there  has  been  given  no  certain  assur- 
ance of  his  happiness.  I  hope  I  have  myself  been  enabled 
to  see  in  this  dispensation,  the  hand  of  an  all-wise  Father  ; 
and  that  it  has  not  been  without  a  beneficial  influence  on 
my  own  soul.  Separated  from  my  earthly  relations,  and 
deprived  of  the  comfort  which  their  sympathy  might  have 
inspired,  I  was  forced  to  seek  consolation  from  that  Friend 
who  never  leaves  his  people.  Never  did  I  feel  so  much 
the  need  of  the  consolations  of  the  gospel ;  and  never  did 
its  declarations  appear  more  cheering  and  consolatory.  I 
could  feel  not  only  submissive,  but  thankful.  I  could  say 
with  Conder,  when  in  a  similar  situation :  — 

*  Oh,  to  be  brought  to  Jesus'  feet, 
Though  sorrows  fix  me  there, 
Is  still  a  privilege.' 

But  I  have  to  regret  that  the  impression  has  been  of  such 
short  continuance,  and  that  my  heart  seems  ready  to  go 
back  again  to  the  vanities  of  the  world.  I  can  easily  per- 
ceive that  if  the  gospel  have  not  an  abiding  influence  on 
the  conduct,  the  mere  sentimental  tenderness,  and  dead- 
ness  to  the  things  of  earth,  which  are  produced  by  the 
death  of  a  friend,  may,  and  will  soon  be  forgotten.  I 
know  you  ^vill  forgive  me  for  dwelling  so  long  on  this 
painful  theme.  You  will  remember  that  the  wound  is  yet 
green ;  and  you  know  from  experience  how  the  mind,  in 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    UEQUHART.  85 

sucli  circumstances,  loves  to  brood  over  the  cause  of  its 
sorrow. 

''I  must  proceed  to  give  you  some  information  about 
St.  Andrew's.  I  might  tell  you  of  the  prosperity  of  the 
College ;  the  increase  in  the  number  of  the  students,  &c. ; 
but  as  these  things  cannot  much  interest  you,  I  shall  just 
shortly  advert  to  some  religious  institutions  which  have 
been  formed  among  us,  and  to  the  spiritual  state  in  gene- 
ral of  our  town  and  University.  Dr.  Chalmers  has 
effected  a  good  deal  by  his  own  example  and  his  own 
exertions  ;  but  he  has  even  been  more  useful  in  drawing 
to  this  place  a  number  of  pious  young  men  of  various 
denominations,  who  have  been  the  instruments  of  bringing 
about  a  great  change  in  the  externals,  at  least,  of  our 
University.  We  cannot  indeed  say,  that  any  great  moral 
renovation  has  been  effected ;  but  the  machinery,  at  least, 
has  been  erected,  which,  with  the  blessing  of  God,  may  be 
the  means  of  effecting  it.  We  have  now  Sabbath-schools 
taught  by  members  of  the  University;  and  meetings  for 
prayer  among  the  students ;  and,  what  is  more  astonishing 
still,  a  University  Missionary  Society,  consisting  of  about 
sixty  members,  who  meet  once  a  month  for  the  purpose  of 
promoting  the  objects  of  the  society.  In  connection  with 
this  last  institution,  we  have  formed  a  small  library  of 
missionary  books,  which  have  mostly  been  sent  us  in  pre- 
sents ;  and  from  the  circulation  of  which,  I  anticipate  great 
good.  This  is  an  institution  in  which  I  take  particular 
interest,  as  I  have  long  considered  the  object  which  it  has 
in  view  one  of  the  most  important,  perhaps,  the  most  im- 
portant, which  can  engage  the  mind  of  a  Christian.  And 
for  some  time  I  have  even  seriously  thought  of  devoting 
my  own  life  to  the  cause  of  missions.  I  had  long  wished 
8 


S6  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    TTRQUnAET. 

to  find  a  companion  who  could  enter  into  my  own  views  on 
this  subject ;  and  such  an  one  I  think  I  have  fallen  in  with 
this  session.  His  name  is  Mr.  Adam ;  he  had  been 
boarded  for  some  time  with  Mr.  Malan,  of  Geneva,  and  he 
seems  to  have  imbibed  much  of  the  spirit  of  that  excellent 
man.  We  have  sometimes  talked  over  the  subject  of  mis- 
sions together,  and  I  hope  we  may  be  yet  honoured  to 
preach  the  gospel  to  the  heathen.  I  am  aware  of  the  diffi- 
culties to  be  encountered;  and  of  the  danger  of  rashly 
forming  a  resolution  of  such  importance ;  but  even  the 
desire  I  have  expressed  to  you,  is  the  fruit  of  much  medi- 
tation and  prayer.  And  I  have  communicated  it  to  you, 
in  order  to  have  the  benefit  of  your  advice.  I  shall  always 
look  to  you  as  one  of  the  best  friends  I  have  on  earth,  and 
I  trust  my  father  in  Christ  Jesus.  I  wish  you  would  send 
me  word  about  the  institution  at  Gosport.  I  have  heard 
there  is  a  great  deficiency  in  the  number  of  students.  I 
entreat  that  you  will  pray  for  my  direction  in  this  mat- 
ter of  so  great  importance  with  regard  to  my  spiritual 
happiness. 

"I  may  mention,  by  the  way,   that  we  have  a  Mr. 

H here,  a  Baptist  minister,  from  London ;  of  whom, 

perhaps,  you  may  have  heard.  He  has  come  to  attend 
Dr.  Chalmers,  and  has  been  very  useful  here.  He  and  my 
friend,  Mr.  Adam,  have  established  several  preaching 
stations  in  the  country  round,  where  the  people  seem  eager 
to  hear  the  gospel. 

"  I  am  sorry  that  I  am  so  soon  obliged  to  conclude ;  for 
I  have  not  told  you  the  half  of  what  I  have  to  communi- 
cate. When  I  heard  from  home,  my  friends  were  well ; 
and  the  church  had  given  Mr.  Jack  a  unanimous  call. 

*'  Perhaps  I  have  been  too  free  in  still  retaining  the 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART.  8T 

Hebrew  books  you  were  pleased  to  lend  me.     I  am  devot- 
ing all  mj  spare  time  to  the  reading  of  the  Psalms. 

"  I  shall  be  very  much  gratified  by  a  letter.  Perhaps 
you  may  be  interested  to  hear  that  I  preached,  for  the 
first  time,  on  Saturday  last,  to  a  few  of  my  fellow-students, 
who  have  formed  themselves  into  a  society  for  extempore 
preaching.     We  meet  in  the  Divinity-Hall.     Farewell." 

The  reader,  I  am  sure,  will  join  me  in  admiring  the 
beautiful  combination  of  Christian  principle  and  brotherly 
affection  contained  in  these  letters.  There  is  no  affecta- 
tion of  feeling ;  but  the  utterance  of  it  in  the  simplest  and 
most  impressive  language.  He  dwells  on  the  slight  indi- 
cations of  religious  feeling  which  his  brother  could  give, 
with  evident  delight ;  and  fondly  cherished  hope  as  far  as 
the  circumstances  admitted.  The  account  of  the  progress 
of  religion  and  of  the  juvenile  association,  is  also  very 
interesting.  It  shows  how  completely  his  heart  was  now 
engaged ;  and,  from  this  time,  I  considered  him  devoted 
to  the  work  of  God  among  the  heathen,  should  Providence 
be  pleased  to  spare  his  life.  I  accordingly  wrote  to  him 
to  encourage  and  cherish,  rather  than  to  stimulate  him, 
which,  I  perceived,  he  did  not  require.  The  sermon  to 
which  he  refers,  as  his  first  essay  in  this  kind  of  composi- 
tion, remains  among  his  papers ;  and  would  do  credit,  in 
point  of  sentiment  and  expression,  to  a  minister  of  some 
years  standing. 

Having  been  the  principal  means  of  establishing  the 
University  Missionary  Society,  he  appears  to  have  taken 
a  very  active  part  in  its  management.  And  as  an  evi- 
dence how  much  it  engaged  his  mind,  and  how  fully  he 
thought  on  all  the  bearings  and  aspects  of  the  great  work, 


88  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

I  must  introduce  an  essay  whicli  he  read  at  one  of  its 
meetings,  held  on  the  12th  of  February ;  a  few  days  before 
the  writing  of  the  preceding  letter.* 

He  was  too  busy  about  this  period  to  spend  much  time 
in  correspondence ;  but  a  few  of  his  letters,  though  short, 
I  must  introduce.  They  will  show  the  strength  and  deli- 
cacy of  his  natural  feelings,  and  how  tenderly  he  was 
alive  to  all  the  charities  of  human  life.  A  sentence  is 
sometimes  more  indicative  of  feeling  and  sentiment  than 
a  volume. 

"  St.  Andrew's,  February,  1825. 

"My  Dear  Mother  —  If  ever  in  my  life  I  felt  quite 
oppressed  and  burdened  with  kindness,  it  was  on  the  re- 
ceipt of  your  very  kind  communication  after  my  brother's 
death ;  and  I  am  quite  ashamed  that  I  have  not  long  before 
now  found  means  to  express  my  gratitude.  My  friends 
seem  to  have  vied  with  each  other,  who  should  be  kindest, 
and  who  should  pay  me  most  attention ;  and  had  I  not 
been  quite  overburdened  with  business,  you  should  have 
had  a  letter  long  before  now.  At  the  time  you  sent,  I 
had  a  very  severe  cold,  which  seemed  to  show  some  dis- 
position to  settle  in  my  breast ;  but  I  am  now  tolerably 
well  again.  Nothing,  however,  could  prevent  my  good 
landlady,  on  the  recommendation  of  Mr.  Smith,  who  called 
on  me,  from  ordering  flannels  for  me,  which  of  course  has 
greatly  assisted  in  emptying  my  slender  purse.  I  have 
just  received  my  father's  letter  of  the  4th,  and  am  exceed- 
ingly happy  to  hear  that  the  church  have  all  come  to  one 
mind  concerning  Mr.  Jack.  The  choosing  of  a  minister 
is  in  general  one  of  the  most  trying  times  to  our  churches ; 
*  See  Appendix  D. 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUIIART.  89  j 

and  I  think  we  have  much  reason  to  bless  God  that  roots        \ 
of  bitterness  have  not  been  permitted  to  spring  np  and 
trouble   us.      Things   are   going   on   pretty  well   among        ; 
us.     The  people  round  about  seem  to  be  hungering  and        i 
thirsting  after  righteousness.     Mr.  Adam  preached  in  the 
country  on  Friday,  at  a  new  station,  where  the  people 
themselves    had  requested   that    some   one   should  come.         \ 
There  is  a  great  want  of  labourers  —  they  have  pressed        i 

Mr.  R into  the  service,  but  still  there  is  employ-        J 

ment  which  is  more  than  enough  for  them." 

."  St.  Andrew's,  February  22,  1825.  ] 

"My  Dear  Brother  —  I  have  sometimes  blamed,  or        I 
rather  pitied  you,  (for  it  is  not  a  legitimate  subject  of         ' 
blame,)  for  a  want  of  feeling ;  and  I  am  quite  sorry  I  have        i 
ever  done  so  ;  for  the  deep  pathos  that  runs  through  some        | 
of  your  letters,  which  are,  notwithstanding,  expressed  in        i 
all  the  unaffected  and  unstudied  simplicity  of  nature,  con-        j 
vinces  me  that  I  have  been  very  far  mistaken.     I  recol-        ! 
lect  of  being  very  much  struck  by  your  truly  pathetical, 
yet  artless  account  of  the  death  of  T.  Greig,  which  was 
contained  in  a  letter  you  sent  me  about  a  year  ago ;  and  I        \ 
have  been  still  more  affected  by  your  very  touching  allu- 
sion, in  your  last,  to  the  death  of  our  brother.     I  would 
indulge  the  hope  that  this  event  may  have  proved  a  bless-        ] 
ing  to  us  as  a  family.     In  all  the  communications  I  have 
received  from  home,  there  has,  I  think,  been  displayed  a 
spirit  of  greater  tenderness  than  usual.     With  your  own 
short  letter  I  have  been  particularly  pleased.     You  could        ' 
not  have  given  me  a  more  satisfactory  proof  that  this  dis-         ; 
pensation  has  been  in  some  degree  blessed  to  you  than  the        i 
feeling  of  self-condemnation  which  your  letter  breathes."  . 

8  *  .  J 


90  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

"My  Dear  Sister  —  I  have  the  expectation  of  seeing 
you  so  soon,  that  it  may  be  thought  almost  unnecessary 
for  me  now  to  write  to  you :  but  I  cannot  think  of  letting 
the  session  pass  without  sending  you  a  letter.  I  was 
gratified  to  hear  from  Mr.  Muir  that  you  had  written  a 
letter  for  me.  I  am  quite  sorry  you  did  not  send  it,  for 
I  am  sure  that  those  very  things  which  seemed  blemishes 
to  you  would  have  enhanced  its  value  to  me.  It  is  an 
easy  and  unstudied  effusion  of  sentiment  which  constitutes 
the  great  charm  of  epistolary  correspondence.  I  wish  you 
would  always  write  to  me  the  simple  dictates  of  your  own 
heart  without  any  external  interference  whatever,  and 
with  the  fullest  confidence,  that,  what  you  write  will  never 
meet  any  eye  but  my  own.  I  hope  to  see  you  now  in  a 
few  weeks,  and  to  be  able  to  devote  a  good  part  of  my 
time  in  the  summer  months  to  your  education.  I  hope 
you  have  been  going  on  with  your  French.  I  should  have 
written  you  a  much  longer  letter  had  it  not  been  that  I 
expect  so  soon  to  see  you  personally." 

In  these  letters  the  feelings  of  nature  are  expressed  in 
a  very  interesting  manner.  The  letter  to  his  brother  con- 
tains some  very  delicate  touches,  and  manifests  much  tact 
and  discrimination,  as  well  as  great  ingenuousness  and 
deep  concern  for  the  salvation  of  his  soul.  May  his 
prayers  and  expostulations  not  be  in  vain  ! 

The  two  following,  though  the  last  is  without  date,  ap- 
pear to  have  been  written  during  this  session. 

"  St.  Andrew's,  March  13,  1825. 
"  My  Dear  Friend  —  This  is  Sabbath  evening,  and  it  is 
now  pretty  late,  yet  I  cannot  think  of  letting  my  father  go 


MEMOmOFJOHNURQUHART.  91 

without  writing  by  him.  I  have  had  but  little  experience 
in  the  feelings  of  the  afflicted,  but  yet  I  can  remember 
how  the  receipt  of  a  letter  from  a  friend,  or  any  such  little 
incident,  would  sometimes  mitigate,  in  a  degree,  the  pains 
of  disease,  by  chequering  the  dull  and  tedious  hours  of 
confinement.  And,  if  in  this  way  I  can  have  any  hope  of 
ministering  to  your  comfort,  it  were  surely  most  ungrate- 
ful of  me  to  let  slip,  through  negligence,  a  single  oppor- 
tunity of  doing  so.  My  father  tells  me  that  you  are  still 
very  poorly;  but  you  know,  from  experience,  far  better 
than  I  can  tell  you,  that  every  affliction  works  for  the 
good  of  them  that  love  God.  You  must  have  a  satisfac- 
tion in  feeling  that  every  trial  through  which  God  has 
carried  you,  has  been  an  additional  proof  of  his  love  to 
you,  and  of  your  interest  in  a  Saviour !  A  satisfaction 
which  that  individual,  whose  religion  (like  mine)  has  been 
all  in  the  sunshine  of  prosperity,  cannot  enjoy.  I  have 
not  yet  proceeded  far  on  the  voyage  of  life,  and  hitherto 
all  has  been  smooth  and  prosperous ;  but  I  sometimes  look 
forward  with  dread  foreboding  to  the  many  tempests  which 
I  may  have  to  encounter  on  life's  rough  sea,  and  to  the 
many  waves  of  trouble  and  distress  which  roll  between  me 
and  that  peaceful  shore,  where  '  billows  never  beat,  nor 
tempests  roar.'  And  at  such  times  I  could  envy  the  case 
of  that  bark,  which,  like  yours,  has  long  been  tossed  by 
many  a  tempest,  but  which  has  weathered  them  all,  and  is 
just  about  to  drop  anchor  in  the  peaceful  haven.  But  I 
feel  that  this  is  a  sinful  feeling,  and  proceeds  from  weak- 
ness of  faith.  It  is  doubting  his  word,  who  has  said, 
^  when  thou  walkest  through  the  fire  it  shall  not  burn 
thee ;  and  through  the  waters,  they  shall  not  overflow 
thee.'     I  am  sorry  that  I  am  obliged  here  to  conclude 


92  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

abruptly,  as  my  time  is  gone.    May  the  Lord  support  you 
in  all  your  trials  !" 

*'  My  very  Dear  Friend — I  cannot  think  of  leaving  you, 
as  we  parted  last  night,  without  some  expression  of  what 
I  feel  at  your  often  rejjeated  kindness  which  has  entailed 
upon  me  a  debt  of  gratitude  which  I  can  never  discharge. 
All  that  I  am,  and  all  that  I  have,  are  devoted,  I  trust,  to 
the  service  of  God ;  and  the  only  way  that  I  can  ever 
repay  the  kindness  of  Christian  friends  is  by  redoubling 
my  ardour  in  the  great  cause  for  which  we  all  live,  and 
for  which  we  all  die.  If  this  shall  be  the  effect  of  your 
generosity,  it  will  produce  to  you  a  double  reward,  and  to 
me  a  double  benefit.  You  will  not  only  enjoy  the  thought 
that  you  have  gained  the  lasting  gratitude  and  good  wishes 
of  a  fellow-pilgrim  in  this  world,  but  when  this  world,  and 
all  the  things  that  are  therein,  shall  be  burnt  up,  you  will 
be  rewarded  a  thousand-fold  as  having  contributed,  in 
some  degree,  through  that  unworthy  individual,  to  pro- 
mote the  interests  of  a  cause,  the  noblest  that  ever  occu- 
pied the  thoughts  of  men  or  of  angels ;  I  had  almost  said, 
of  God  himself. 

''And  if  your  kindness  prove  to  me,  as  I  trust  it  will, 
a  stimulus  to  greater  exertion  in  the  cause  to  which  I  am 
devoted,  that  will  be  an  infinitely  greater  benefit  than  all 
the  advantages  it  may  directly  confer.  Thus  may  the 
Lord  make  your  kindness  a  double  blessing  both  to  the 
giver  and  to  the  receiver.  And  to  his  name  be  all  the 
thanks  and  all  the  glory." 

The  two  preceding  letters  would  do  credit  to  any  pen  as 
specimens  of  natural  and  unaffected  epistolary  correspond- 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART.  93 

ence ;  while  the  sentiments  they  contain,  and  the  spirit 
which  they  breathe,  would  not  be  unworthy  of  the  most 
mature  Christian.  The  fears  respecting  the  future,  which 
he  so  beautifully  expresses,  were  never  realized.  His 
tender  bark  was  indeed  ill  fitted  to  encounter  the  storms 
and  perils  of  this  world ;  and  therefore  infinite  goodness 
brought  it  speedily  to  ''  the  land  of  glory  and  repose." 

Dr.  Chalmers'  class  seems  to  have  occupied  the  princi- 
pal share  in  his  attention  during  this  winter ;  and  in  moral 
philosophy  and  political  economy,  he  appears  to  have 
made  great  proficiency.  Besides  his  notes  of  the  Profes- 
sor's lectures,  and  the  papers  which  he  wrote  on  the  vari- 
ous subjects  which  were  assigned,  or  voluntarily  under- 
taken, he  composed  a  synopsis,  or  analysis  of  Smith's 
Wealth  of  Nations,  the  favourite  class-book  of  Dr.  Chal- 
mers, and  which  has  contributed  more  to  produce  correct 
views  of  society,  and  of  the  science  which  is  now  so  popular, 
than  any  production  of  the  age.  My  young  friend  read 
this  work  evidently  with  great  care  ;  and  though  he  must 
have  generally  admired  it,  and  agreed  in  its  statements 
and  reasonings,  he  did  not  blindly  adopt  them.  His  essay 
on  the  Distinction  between  Productive  and  Unproductive 
Labour,  will  evince  that  he  could  think  for  himself,  and 
discover  even  in  the  able  work  of  that  most  profound 
thinker,  positions  that  are  not  altogether  tenable.* 

Every  one  must  admire  the  acuteness  and  talent  dis- 
played in  this  essay.  More  than  common  discernment 
was  necessary  to  catch  the  author  of  the  Wealth  of  Nations 
tripping ;  but  still  greater  talent  was  required  to  detect 
the  fallacy  and  expose  the  mistaken  reasonings  by  which 
the  theory  was  supported.  A  discovery,  when  made,  often 
*  See  Appendix  E. 


;94  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

appears  very  simple  and  easy ;  but  the  mind  which  makes 
that  discovery,  and  the  process  which  leads  to  it,  belong 
not  to  the  common  order,  and  may  be  far  removed  from 
vulgar  apprehension. 

Among  his  papers,  which  were  written  about  this  time, 
are  several  fragments,  on  subjects  of  great  importance ; 
and  while  I  feel  deep  regret  that  they  are  imperfect,  I 
cannot  throw  aside  even  the  fragments  of  such  a  mind. 
The  first  is  on  Written  Language,  in  which  his  object  ap- 
pears to  have  been  to  prove  that  it  is  of  divine  origin. 
This  is  a  view  of  the  subject  not  peculiar  indeed  to  him, 
but  still  not  usually  adopted  by  philosophers  and  philo- 
logists ;  though  I  confess  it  has  long  appeared  to  me  the 
only  tenable  hypothesis.  The  employment  of  hierogly- 
phics, and  the  use  of  them  to  record  facts  of  a  certain 
kind,  are  easily  accounted  for ;  but  the  discovery  of  alpha- 
betic writing  is  a  very  different  matter.  The  extraordinary 
simplicity  of  alphabetic  characters,  and  their  still  more  ex- 
traordinary power,  render  it  improbable  that  they  should  be 
the  discovery  of  chance,  or  the  invention  of  a  barbarous  peo- 
ple :  while  the  impossibility  of  arriving  at  any  great  degree 
of  civilization  or  scientific  advancement  without  them, 
supposes  that  the  discovery  must  have  preceded.  If 
reason  and  language  are  the  gifts  of  God,  it  is  not  going 
too  far  to  say,  that  both  are  imperfect  and  very  limited  in 
their  operation  without  the  use  of  a  written  language.  In 
order  to  preserve  and  authenticate  a  divine  revelation,  a 
fixed  medium  of  that  revelation  seems  absolutely  neces- 
sary ;  and,  perhaps,  it  would  not  be  difficult  to  suggest 
reasons  amounting  to  high  probability,  that  when  the  law 
was  given  to  Moses,  the  first  knowledge  of  alphabetic 
writing,  and   the   first  specimen  of  it   were   then   com- 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART.  95 

munlcated.  But  this  is  not  the  place  to  pursue  such  an 
inquiry.* 

Among  his  other  pursuits  during  this  busy  session,  he 
wrote  scA^eral  discourses  on  passages  of  Scripture.  Some 
of  them  were  read  to  Mr.  Lothian,  others  of  them  to  a  small 
number  of  his  fellow-students  ;  but  none  of  them,  I  believe, 
was  used  in  any  other  way.  They  are  all  illustrative  of 
the  soundness  and  clearness  of  his  mind  ;  the  accuracy  and 
extent  of  his  knowledge  of  the  Scriptures ;  the  philosophical 
turn  of  his  thinking  ;  and  his  prevailing  disposition  to  con- 
nect all  his  pursuits  with  the  missionary  enterprise,  in 
which  even  then,  he  ardently  wished  to  engage.  I  am 
very  much  deceived  if  the  discourse,  which  I  give  as  a 
specimen,  will  not  be  considered  an  extraordinary  effort 
of  so  young  a  mind.f 

I  do  not  know  whether  the  writer  of  this  admirable 
discourse  ever  saw  the  "Hints  on  Missions,"  by  Mr. 
Douglas ;  but  there  is  a  passage  in  that  little  work  so 
applicable  to  the  subject  of  this  discourse,  and  so  im- 
portant in  itself,  that  I  shall  here  take  the  liberty  to 
introduce  it :  — 

"  While  belief  is  connected  with  truth,  we  shall  never 
want  converts;  and  while  the  belief  of  truth  impels 
to  the  communication  of  truth,  we  shall  never  want 
preachers. 

"  '  I  believed,  and  therefore  have  I  spoken.'  Here  is  a 
measure  derived  from  heaven  to  judge  of  the  sincerity  of 
belief.  The  laws  of  the  human  mind  are  not  circumscribed 
within  degrees  and  parallels.  He  who  has  no  desire  to 
proclaim  the  gospel  abroad,  has  none  to  proclaim  it  at 
home,  and  has  no  belief  in  it  himself;  whatever  profes- 
*  See  Appendix  F.  f  See  Appendix  G. 


96  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

sions  lie  may  make,  are  hollow  and  hypocritical.  Bodies 
of  Christians  who  make  no  efforts  to  christianize  others, 
are  Christians  but  in  name ;  and  the  ages  in  which  no 
attempts  are  made  to  send  the  glad  tidings  to  heathen 
countries,  are  the  dark  ages  of  Christianity,  however 
they  may  suppose  themselves  enlightened  and  guided  by 
philosophy  and  moderation. 

"  The  ages  of  Christian  purity  have  ever  been  the  ages 
of  Christian  exertion.  At  the  commencement  of  Chris- 
tianity, he  who  believed  in  the  gospel,  became  also  a 
preacher  of  the  gospel.  'We  believe,  and  therefore  we 
speak.'  The  effort  was  correspondent  to  the  belief,  and 
the  success  to  the  effort.  Christians  grew  and  multiplied, 
and  their  very  multiplication  insured  a  fresh  renewal  of 
their  increase.  The  primitive  prolific  blessing  was  upon 
them,  and  one  became  a  thousand."* 

If  the  subject  of  these  memoirs  borrowed  the  hint  from 
the  above  passage,  of  which  I  have  no  evidence,  it  is  very 
clear  that  he  has  duly  improved  upon  it.  His  discourse 
exists  but  in  the  first  rough  draft,  and  appears  therefore 
under  every  disadvantage.  I  have  not  altered  one  sen- 
tence, and  scarcely  corrected  even  a  word ;  yet  with  all  these 
drawbacks,  it  affords  evidence  that  it  is  the  production  of  a 
master-mind.  The  argument  is  exceedingly  ingenious,  and 
is  sustained  with  a  degree  of  ability  and  felicity  of  illus- 
tration, which  reflects  the  highest  credit  on  the  powers  of 
the  author.  The  simplicity  of  his  own  views  of  religion,  and 
the  deep  earnestness  with  which  he  pleads  for  the  full 
practical  influence  of  Christianity  are  truly  delightful. 
How  happy  would  it  be  for  the  individuals  themselves, 
for   the    church,   and   the  world,   did   all  who   enter  on 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    rRQUHART.  97 

the  office  of  tlie  ministry  feel  the  force  of  the  high  and 
hallowed  views  which  are  here  stated. 

The  references  to  natural  religion,  as  it  is  called,  con- 
tained in  this  discourse,  induced  me  to  introduce  an  essay 
on  that  subject,  which  he  wrote  as  a  class  exercise  at  the 
close  of  this  session.  The  subject  is  one  on  w^hich  a  great 
deal  of  ignorance  has  been  discovered,  and  a  vast  portion 
of  error  propagated.  The  religion  of  nature  will,  I  fear, 
go  a  very  little  way  to  inform  the  understanding,  still  less 
to  regulate  the  affections,  and  no  way  at  all  to  satisfy 
God,  or  pacify  the  conscience  of  a  sinner.  Whether  un- 
assisted reason  is  capable  of  accomplishing  all  that  my 
young  friend,  with  many  others,  contends  for,  is  not  per- 
fectly clear;  but  no  one  can  doubt  the  admirable  and 
beautiful  manner  in  which  he  conducts  his  own  argu- 
ment, and  the  justice  which  he  does  to  the  claims  of  the 
revelation  of  God.* 

From  his  correspondence  I  select  the  following  letter  to 
a  young  friend,  who  was  then  about  to  sustain  a  severe 
loss  in  his  mother,  a  most  amiable  and  eminently  devoted 
Christian.  It  is  marked  with  much  tenderness  and  faith- 
fulness. 

"  St.  Andrew's,  March  12,  1825. 

"  On  looking  over  your  last  letter,  the  most  important, 
indeed  the  only  intelligence  it  conveys,  is  an  answer 
(which  I  regret  is  such  a  painful  one)  to  my  inquiries 
about  your  mother's  health.  From  what  my  father  tells 
me,  I  fear  the  worst,  and  I  cannot  help  dreading  you  may 
have  lost  her  ere  now.  At  all  events,  from  the  nature 
and  virulence  of  her  disease,  your  hopes  cannot  be  very 

*  See  Appendix  H. 
9 


98  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

sanguine.  I  am  writing  to  one  who  lias  either  just  lost, 
or  who  is  every  clay  expecting  to  lose,  the  dearest  of  all 
earthly  relatives ;  and  in  either  case,  I  should  feel  I  was 
doing  •  violence  to  all  the  finer  feelings  of  our  common 
nature,  did  I  indulge  in  a  strain  of  writing  that  was  light 
or  frivolous.  There  is  something  in  the  near  view  of  death, 
either  prospectively  or  retrospectively,  which  solemnizes 
the  gayest  heart,  and  disposes  the  most  thoughtless  to 
serious  reflection.  There  is  something  in  that  tender  sor- 
row which  attends  the  death  of  one  that  is  dear  to  us, 
which,  for  a  time,  subdues  the  pride  of  the  haughtiest, 
and  turns  the  eye  of  the  most  worldly,  for  a  time,  to  hea- 
ven. If  ever  that  spiritual  blindness  is  removed,  which 
hides  from  our  view  all  that  is  beyond  the  grave,  it  is, 
when  by  the  death  of  a  near  friend,  we  are  led,  as  it  were, 
to  the  very  outskirts  of  this  world,  and  can  thus  take  a 
nearer  view  of  that  world  which  lies  beyond  it.  You  will 
excuse  me,  then,  if,  in  such  circumstances,  I  call  to  your 
remembrance,  and  press  upon  your  attention,  those  sacred 
precepts  which  your  mother  has  often  taught  you,  and  of 
•which  she  herself  has  been  a  living  exemplification.  I 
know  the  dislike  of  the  young  mind  to  religion  ;  I  have  felt 
it,  but  it  is  a  dislike  which  should  be  fought  against.  I 
know  the  alluring  prospects  of  happiness  which  this  world 
holds  out ;  but  short,  as  has  been  my  experience,  I  have 
found  that  they  are  deceitful.  I  know  the  difficulty  that 
there  is  in  standing  out  against  the  laugh  and  sneer  of 
young  and  gay  and  light-hearted  companions  ;  but,  I  can 
assure  you,  that  you  will  be  enabled  to  bear  it,  and  even 
to  rejoice  under  it.  All  that  I  wish  you  to  do  is,  to  con- 
side?'  the  things  of  spirituality :  if  you  but  do  this,  your 
belief  will  follow;  and  your  joy,  in  believing,  as  a  natural 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART.  99 

consequence.  Perhaps  jour  mother  is  yet  lingering  in 
this  world  ;  if  so,  it  is  my  prayer,  that  she  may  yet  be  re- 
stored to  you.  But  perhaps,  even  now,  you  are  mourning 
her  loss ;  if  so,  it  is  my  prayer,  that  your  affliction  may 
send  you  to  seek  for  consolation  in  the  exercises  of  devo- 
tion. If  this  be  the  result  of  your  trial,  it  will  prove  to 
you  a  real  blessing,  and  you  will  find  you  have  exchanged 
an  earthly  parent  for  an  heavenly  one." 

It  was  towards  the  close  of  the  session,  he  wrote  for  the 
prize  at  the  Moral  Philosophy  class,  proposed  by  Dr. 
Chalmers.  It  appears,  that,  till  near  the  end  of  the  term, 
he  had  no  intention  of  becoming  a  competitor,  and  that  it 
was  not  till  within  four  or  five  days  of  the  period  fixed  for 
the  giving  in  of  the  essays,  that  he  set  himself  in  good 
earnest  to  the  task.  To  this,  and  several  other  sub- 
jects of  importance  he  refers,  in  the  following  letter  to  his 
father :  — 

"St.  Andrew's,  April  18,  1825. 
''  My  Dear  Father  —  I  am  happy  to  be  able  to  inform 
you,  that  I  did  7iot  speak  at  the  meeting  at  Cupar,  nor 
ever  had  the  slightest  intention  of  doing  so.  I  have  been 
intreated  by  some  of  our  friends,  and  have  been  reproved 
for  want  of  zeal  by  others,  because  I  did  not  come  forward 
and  preach  in  the  country,  but  I  have  withstood  both  in- 
treaties  and  reproofs.    Mr.  Reid  has  been  pressed  into  the 

service,  and  even  Mr. ,  at  the  risk  of  being  called  to 

an  account  by  the  Presbytery,  preached  one  Sabbath  at 
Denino.  I  acknowledge  that  I  have  much  higher  ideas  of 
preaching  than  are  generally  entertained  among  our 
brethren ;  and  I  do  sincerely  think,  that  it  has  been  one 
of  the  greatest  evils  (perhaps,  for  a  time,  a  necessary  one,) 


100  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

in  our  system,  to  bring  forward  people  to  preacli  who  were 
not  rightly  qualified  for  this  most  important  of  all  engage- 
ments. I  think,  from  what  you  say  in  yours,  you  do  not 
seem  to  have  a  right  idea  of  the  prize  essay  which  I  said 
I  was  writing.  Most  perfectly  do  I  agree  with  you,  that 
I  stand  no  chance  of  gaining  it ;  but,  at  the  same  time,  I 
should  have  thought  it  a  breach  of  duty,  and  was  afraid  it 
might  offend  Dr.  Chalmers,  did  I  not  give  it  in.  They 
were  entirely  motives  of  this  nature,  which  induced  me, 
after  I  had  burned  an  essay  I  had  written,  in  order  to 
compete  for  the  prize,  to  write  another  when  the  time  was 
almost  run  out.  I  am  sure  you  will  not  think  me  capable 
of  so  much  presumption,  as  to  expect  that  a  production, 
which  cost  me  only  five  days'  labour,  at  spare  hours,  should 
come  into  competition  with  those  which  have  cost  my  com- 
petitors the  continued  application  of  four  months. 

"  I  feel  sincerely  grateful  for  your  letter.  It  is  exactly 
what  I  need  at  present.  I  feel  the  praise  which  is  of  men, 
to  be  one  of  the  severest  trials  I  can  meet  with,  and  to  be 
more  especially  the  besetting  temptation  of  an  academic 
career." 

The  modesty  which  formed  a  marked  feature  of  his 
character,  is  strongly  indicated  in  this  letter.  Though  he 
had  been  frequently  urged  to  preach,  and  to  speak  at  some 
public  meetings,  he  had  decidedly  refused  to  do  so.  He 
considered  himself  much  too  young  to  appear  in  public ; 
and  in  his  ideas  of  preaching,  I  most  fully  concur.  Those 
who  did  not  know  him,  might  suppose  there  was  somethino- 
of  affectation  in  his  intimations  of  having  no  expectation 
of  the  prize.  But  his  friends  at  College,  as  well  as  myself, 
are  persuaded  that  this  was  really  the  state  of  his  mind, 
notwithstanding  the  effort  which  he  made. 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART.  101 

"  He  was  distlngiiislied,"  says  Mr.  Duff,  "for  a  remark- 
able diffidence  in  his  own  abilities,  uncommon  though  they 
were.  An  instance  of  this  occurred  during  his  second 
session.  The  subject  of  a  prize  essay  was  proposed  by 
the  Professor  of  Logic.  Mr.  Urquhart  began  to  wi'ite  the 
essay,  and  brought  it  nearly  to  a  close ;  when,  upon  read- 
ing it,  he  was  so  dissatisfied  with  its  merits,  that  he  threw 
it  into  the  fire.  He  was,  however,  encom-aged  to  renew 
the  attempt,  and  prosecuted  the  subject  with  vigour.  He 
submitted  the  performance  to  a  fellow-student,  whose  tried 
abilities  rendered  him  capable  of  estimating  the  talent  with 
which  it  was  executed.  He  was  much  struck  with  the 
superior  excellence  of  the  essay,  and  strongly  advised  Mr. 
Urquhart  to  give  it  to  the  Professor.  Notwithstanding 
this  encouragement,  having  once  more  read  the  essay  him- 
self, he  was  so  much  displeased  with  its  execution,  that  he 
burnt  it  without  any  hesitation." 

The  highest  prize  was  assigned  him  for  the  essay  com- 
posed under  the  circumstances  adverted  to  in  the  letter  to 
his  father.  The  opinion  of  Dr.  Chalmers  is  evident,  from 
his  having  awarded  it,  and  from  the  sentence  which  he  has 
written  upon  the  last  page  of  the  essay  itself.  In  this 
opinion,  not  only  did  the  class  in  general  concur,  but  even 
those  individuals  from  whom  he  had  carried  off  the  boon.* 

Besides  gaining  the  first  prize  at  the  Moral  Philosophy 
class,  on  the  subject  prescribed  by  the  Professor;  he 
gained  also  the  first  prize  for  the  best  essay  read  in  the 
class.  He  had  also  distinguished  himself  in  the  private 
Greek  class ;  and,  indeed,  in  all  the  departments  to  which 
he  directed  his  attention.  "In  estimating  his  success," 
says  a  fellow-student,  "  it  must  be  remembered,  that  thero 
^  *  See  Appendix  I. 


102  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

never  was  at  St.  Andrew's  a  more  brilliant  assemblage  of 
talent  and  of  genius,  attracted  from  all  parts  of  the  king- 
dom, by  the  fame  of  Dr.  Chalmers,  than  there  was  during 
the  session  of  1824-25."  In  this  opinion,  it  will  be  seen 
from  Dr.  Chalmers's  letter,  how  fully  he  concui'S. 

Perhaps  I  cannot  do  better  than  introduce,  at  the  con- 
clusion of  the  course  of  Moral  Philosophy,  the  account  of 
him,  with  which  I  have  been  favoured  by  another  of  his 
fellow-students,  and  a  competitor  along  with  him  for  the 
prize.  It  contains  some  traits  of  character  worthy  of 
being  preserved,  and  besides  showing  the  estimate  which 
was  formed  of  him  by  others,  is  highly  creditable  to  the 
talents,  and  still  more  the  generous  feelings  of  a  fellow- 
candidate.  It  is  not  necessary  that  I  should  subscribe  to 
every  sentiment  which  it  expresses  ;  but  the  description  is, 
on  the  whole,  correct  and  faithful :  — 

"  The  seeds  of  talent,  wherever  they  were  sown,  could 
not  fail  to  spring  up  under  the  fostering  eloquence  of  Dr. 
Chalmers.  His  enthusiasm,  intense,  and  almost  approach- 
ing to  juvenile  extravagance,  communicated  its  ardour  to 
every  mind  that  could  appreciate  his  bold  and  original 
speculations  in  moral  and  political  philosophy,  or  could  be 
animated  by  the  eloquence  with  which  they  were  illus- 
trated and  enforced.  Mr.  Urquhart  caught,  in  common 
with  his  fellow-students,  the  contagion  of  the  example, 
which  emanated  from  the  chair.  The  activity  of  his  mind 
was  awakened,  and  the  veneration  which  he  entertained 
for  the  character,  and  admiration  of  the  genius  of  his  pro- 
fessor, were  the  strongest  motives  to  exert  his  own.  I 
remember  well  the  impression  which  his  first  essay  made 
upon  his  class-fellows,  and  the  flattering,  though  merited 
approbation  it  received  from  his  professor.     He  began  in 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    UEQUHAET.  103 

a  low,  timid,  faltering  voice,  shrinking  from  the  silent  and 
fixed  attention  of  a  public  display,  till  by  degrees  his  voice 
assumed  a  firmer  tone,  and  when  he  closed  it  was  not 
without  animation  and  feeling.  As  his  unpretending  man- 
ners, and  his  previous  public  examinations,  had  given  but 
little  promise  of  his  talents,  the  triumph  was  the  more 
complete,  as  it  was  unexpected.  Not  to  feel  vain  or  proud 
of  the  distinction  which  literary  eminence  confers,  is  a 
modesty  of  nature  but  rarely  found,  even  among  those  who 
have  been  longest  accustomed  to  the  homage  of  the  public. 
To  a  young  man,  though  the  sphere  in  which  his  merits 
are  displayed  is  narrower,  yet  the  novelty  of  the  feeling, 
combined  with  the  gentler  sensibility  of  his  mind,  renders 
the  impression  irresistible.  It  is,  perhaps,  the  proudest 
moment  of  his  life,  when  he  is  first  commended  for  his 
literary  acquirements,  his  taste,  or  his  promise  of  future 
talent.  That  Mr.  Urquhart  was  insensible  to  this  praise, 
would  be  saying  too  much.  Such  an  indifference  would 
have  proved  rather  a  want  of  feeling,  than  an  absence  of 
vanity.  But  whatever  secret  pleasure  he  may  have  felt, 
it  was  betrayed  by  no  assumed  airs  of  consequence  or 
pride.  Those  who  were  attracted  by  his  talents  were  not 
repelled  by  his  vanity.  He  levied  no  contribution  of 
admiration  from  his  friends,  as  a  tax  to  his  merit ;  and  as 
no  one  could  be  less  di&posed  to  gratify  others  at  the  ex- 
pense of  truth,  so  none  was  ever  less  solicitous  of  flattery. 
In  his  intercourse  with  his  fellow-students,  there  was  a 
total  absence  of  all  ostentation  or  pretension.  No  one 
was  forced  in  his  presence  upon  the  disagreeable  convic- 
tion of  his  own  inferiority,  so  that  without  any  of  the  arts 
of  pleasing,  or  those  popular  qualities  that  attract  general 
favour,  he  had  made  many  friends,  but  no  enemies.     !Few 


104  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHAET. 

fancied  they  saw  in  him  a  rival  to  their  own  amhitious 
hopes ;  and  when  he  crossed  the  path,  and  gained  the  hill 
in  advance,  it  was  with  so  noiseless  a  step,  and  with  so 
little  show  of  a  triumph,  that  he  either  escaped  the  vigil- 
ance of  his  competitors,  or  they  pardoned  his  success  for 
the  manner  in  which  it  was  obtained.  What  they  might 
imagine  themselves  entitled  to,  for  their  superior  talents, 
they  willingly  resigned  to  his  virtue.  Indeed,  a  little 
observation  of  the  world  shows,  and  the  remark  is  appli- 
cable to  every  period  of  life,  that  men  are  more  easy  under 
a  defeat  than  a  triumph,  and  that  the  prosperous  might 
enjoy  their  success  without  envy,  if  they  had  the  prudence 
to  conceal  it.  Not  that  by  this  reflection  we  mean  to  re- 
solve Mr.  Urquhart's  modesty  into  a  refinement  of  selfish- 
ness. His  conduct  was  equally  remote  from  that  haughti- 
ness, which  is  one  of  the  forms  of  pride ;  and  from  that 
affectation  of  humility,  which  is  often  the  same  passion 
under  a  new  disguise.  Nature  in  him  had  not  learned  to 
conceal  her  feelings,  and  still  less  to  assume  those  which 
did  not  belong  to  her.  Eeserved  without  pride,  and  grave 
beyond  his  years,  without  any  mixture  of  severity,  he 
avoided  the  promiscuous  society  of  his  class-mates,  not 
from  any  feeling  of  superiority,  but  partly  from  the  timidity 
of  his  disposition,  and  from  a  want  of  sympathy  in  their 
ordinary  sports  and  conversation. 

'"Concourse  and  noise,  and  toil,  he  ever  fled.' 

"  This  disposition  was  as  beautifully  illustrated  as  the 
action  was  characteristic  of  his  modesty,  in  his  conduct  on 
that  day  in  which  the  prizes  were  distributed,  at  the  close 
of  the  session,  and  of  which  he  was  to  bear  away  some  of 
the  most  distinguished  and  honourable.     While  the  more 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART.  105 

ambitious  and  showy  youths,  had  selected  a  distant  station 
in  the  hall,  that  they  might  advance  to  the  spot  where  the 
prizes  were  distributed,  through  a  line  of  admiring  specta- 
tors, Mr.  Urquhart  had  shrunk  unobserved  into  the  corner 
of  a  window,  near  to  the  seat  of  the  Professors,  and  no 
sooner  was  his  name  announced,  than  he  had  again  drawn 
back  and  disappeared.  There  was  scarce  time  to  put  the 
usual  inquiry  of  who  he  was,  when  a  new  candidate  for 
attention  was  summoned.  The  same  simple,  unostenta- 
tious manner,  and  aversion  to  display,  which  appear  in 
this  action,  was  the  result  of  his  general  habits  and  feel- 
ings, and  not  of  singular  or  accidental  occurrence.  It  was 
in  consistence  with  the  other  parts  of  his  conduct.  No 
one  knew  when  Mr.  Urquhart  entered  or  retired  from  his 
class.  He  had  no  circle  of  literary  dependants  who 
crowded  around  him,  to  receive  his  philosophical  dicta,  or 
his  canons  of  criticism.  Yet,  to  those  who  observed  him, 
there  was  something  in  his  appearance  in  the  class,  singu- 
lar and  interesting.  He  had  an  awkward  habit  of  biting 
his  nails,  a  practice  in  him  not  disagreeable,  it  was  so 
much  of  a  piece  with  the  simplicity  of  his  look.  His  head 
generally  inclined  to  one  side,  and  as  he  sat  it  was  sup- 
ported by  his  arm.  This  was  his  usual  position  while 
listening  to  the  lecture.  As  Dr.  Chalmers's  animation  in- 
creased, Mr.  Urquhart  gradually  elevated  his  head,  and 
when  he  rose  into  eloquence,  you  would  have  seen  his  arm 
drop  by  his  side,  and  his  eye  steadfastly  fixed,  looking  the 
orator  broad  in  the  face.  I  know  not  whether  Dr.  Chal- 
mers marked  these  changes  in  the  attitude  of  his  pupil; 
but  if  he  had,  they  would  have  afforded  no  inaccurate  test 
of  the  degree  to  which  his  eloquence  had  risen.  These 
incidents  are  of  little  value  in  themselves,  but  they  will 


106  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

convey  more  truth  and  effect  than  any  description  of  the 
disposition  and  manners  of  Mr.  Urquhart. 

"  Of  his  intellectual  character,  the  most  distinguished 
feature,  I  would  say,  was  a  sound  understanding ;  more 
clear  and  judicious,  however,  than  either  subtle  or  com- 
prehensive. Endowed  with  a  mind  thoughtful  and  con- 
siderate, he  adopted  none  of  the  rash  speculations  and 
dazzling  paradoxes  which  so  often  delude  the  inquirer  of 
his  age.  Temperate  and  cautious  in  the  exercise  of  his 
own  judgment,  he  was  the  less  disposed  to  receive  the 
unripe  and  hasty  inventions  of  others.  In  a  conversa- 
tional society  of  his  fellow-students,  for  the  discussion  of 
the  opinions  on  moral  and  political  philosophy,  that  were 
delivered  from  the  chair,  Mr.  Urquhart  took  an  intelligent 
and  sometimes  active  part.  The  subjects  were  intricate, 
and  did  not  admit  of  an  easy  flow  of  conversation.  But, 
such  as  they  were,  Mr.  Urquhart,  when  he  hazarded  his 
sentiments,  generally  spoke  with  clearness  and  precision. 
Profound  remarks,  exhibiting  mature  knowledge  and  pre- 
vious speculative  habits,  were  neither  required  on  such  an 
occasion,  nor  expected.  Plain  and  natural  in  his  turns  of 
thought,  and  not  venturing  beyond  what  he  understood, 
he  escaped  those  unintelligible  extravagances  into  which 
more  fearless  thinkers  on  intricate  subjects  not  unfre- 
quently  fall.  If  he  was  unsuccessful  in  communicating 
new  instruction  by  his  remarks,  he  pleased  from  the  sim- 
plicity with  which  he  expressed  ideas  that  were  familiar; 
and  every  one  eagerly  invited  and  listened  with  pleasure 
to  Mr.  Urquhart  as  he  spoke.  There  was  an  air  of  can- 
dour and  truth  in  whatever  he  said,  and  the  modesty  with 
which  he  urged  his  opinions,  was  only  surpassed  by  the 
readiness  and  good  nature  with  which  he  retracted  them 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHAET.  107 

■when  convinced  of  his  error.  His  name  will  not  soon  be 
forgotten  by  the  members  of  that  society  of  which,  if  he 
was  not  the  brightest  ornament  by  his  talent,  none  was 
more  beloved. 

"  In  his  class  essays,  which,  I  believe,  were  among  his 
first  attempts  at  regular  composition,  there  was  a  correct- 
ness of  taste,  felicity  of  illustration,  and  perspicuity  in  the 
arrangement  of  his  thoughts,  such  as  is  rarely  to  be  found 
in  the  early  efforts  of  the  juvenile  pen.  There  is  often  an 
irregular  exuberance  in  the  productions  of  youthful  talent, 
which  it  requires  years  of  study  to  prune  into  form.  The 
crop  of  Mr.  Urquhart's  imagination,  if  less  luxuriant  than 
many,  was  more  free  from  tares,  and  more  beautiful  in  its 
growth.  He  never  blundered  into  a  conceit  or  extrava- 
gance in  search  of  ornament.  His  mind  rested  rather 
upon  the  broad  analogies  of  things,  and  converted  them 
into  illustrations  of  his  subjects,  than  upon  those  nice  and 
secret  resemblances  which  wit  discloses  in  unexpected  allu- 
sions and  metaphors.  It  was  imagination  rather  than 
fancy,  which  he  possessed.  Though  he  enjoyed  the 
humour  and  lighter  attempts  at  wit,  of  his  companions, 
yet  these  were  fields  into  which  he  seldom  strayed.  His 
excellencies  consisted  not  in  brilliant  ornaments  of  style, 
or  in  the  higher  flights  of  imagination  ;  but  in  illustrations 
happily  conceived,  and  closely  incorporated  with  his  sub- 
ject. The  same  simplicity,  which  was  the  charm  of  his 
manners,  and  the  prevailing  feature  in  his  character,  was 
the  grace  of  his  compositions.  So  chaste,  and  yet  so 
young,  was  a  union  of  circumstances  so  rare,  that  it  opened 
prospects  the  most  sanguine,  of  future  excellence,  when 
his  mind  should  be  enriched  by  knowledge,  and  disciplined 
by  cultivation." 


108  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART< 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Introductory  observations  —  John's  return  home  at  the  end  of  hig 
third  session —  Letter  respecting  his  going  to  some  of  the  Dissent- 
ing Academies — Letter  illustrative  of  his  state  of  mind  —  Letters 
—  His  employments  during  the  vacation  —  Letter  to  Mr.  Craik  — 
His  visit  to  London  —  Mr.  Adam's  account  of  him  at  this  time  — 
Letters  to  his  father — Engagements  during  the  winter  —  Letters 
to  a  friend  —  Letter  to  his  brother  —  Letter  to  his  mother  —  Letter 
to  a  friend  —  Letter  to  Mr.  Orme  —  Opposition  of  his  friends  to  his 
Missionary  devotedness  —  Mr.  Duff's  account  of  him  —  Testi- 
monies to  his  literary  attainments  —  Mr.  Alexander's  account  of 
him  —  Dr.  Chalmers'  certificate. 

There  are  few  things  wliich  put  the  character  and 
principles  of  a  young  man  more  to  the  test  than  a  classi- 
cal and  University  education.  He  who  passes  through 
this  ordeal  unhurt,  has  reason  to  bless  the  gracious  and 
powerful  influences  of  the  divine  Spirit.  I  do  not  refer  at 
present  to  the  levity  of  youth,  and  to  the  snares  of  those 
associations  which  belong  to  the  state  of  society  in  Col- 
leges and  classical  schools.  The  danger  of  infection  from 
the  moral  atmosphere  is,  indeed,  great.  But  there  are 
dangers  of  a  different  kind,  arising  out  of  the  studies  which 
chiefly  engross  the  attention,  and  their  powerful,  but  unper- 
ceived  influence  upon  the  mind. 

The  investigations  of  philology  and  grammar,  though 
important  in  themselves,  and  absolutely  necessary  as  the 
basis  of  all  correct  knowledge,  are  dry,  and  often  tire- 
some.    The  memory  is  loaded  with  words  and  forms  of 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHAET.  109 

expression,  wliich  tend  no  doubt,  to  exercise  and  strengthen 
it ;  but  do  not  tend  much  to  the  moral  benefit  of  the  mind. 
When  from  these  the  schoLar  passes  on  to  the  more  ele- 
gant studies  of  the  Greek  and  Roman  classics,  or  even  to 
the  polite  literature  of  our  own  country,  how  little  does  he 
find  at  all  calculated  to  promote  his  spiritual  w^elfare  ! 
This  is  not  saying  enough  :  how  much  does  he  meet  with, 
the  tendency  of  which  is  positively  injurious  !  The  fasci- 
nations thrown  around  vice,  the  halo  of  glory  with  which 
sin  itself  is  frequently  invested,  cannot  be  viewed  often, 
and  with  great  intensity,  without  damage.  The  individual 
who  gives  his  days  and  nights  to  the  poets  and  orators  of 
Greece  and  Rome,,  must  be  more  than  man  if  he  escapes 
without  hurt  to  his  spiritual  feelings  and  principles. 

The  influence  of  the  exact  sciences,  and  of  experimental 
philosophy,  though  of  a  different  nature,  is  still  hazardous 
to  a  mind  which  has  not  arrived  at  maturity.  The  abso- 
lute certainty  of  mathematical  demonstration,  and  the  sure 
results  of  algebraic  formula,  produce  a  habit  which  has 
proved  in  many  instances  very  unfavourable  to  the  due 
appreciation  of  moral  evidence.  And  the  processes  of 
chemistry,  and  the  experiments  of  physical  science,  have 
not  been  always  productive  of  an  increased  veneration  for 
the  great  Spirit  who  presides  over,  and  pervades  all  the 
operations  of  the  universe. 

I  wish  to  speak  of  results,  rather  than  to  assign  reasons 
for  those  results.  Whether  the  evils  and  dangers  referred 
to  are  to  be  ascribed  to  the  weakness  and  depravity  of 
our  nature,  or  to  the  imperfections  of  the  systems  of  edu- 
cation, which  are  generally  ad'optcd,  or  to  both  together, 
does  not  a  iter  the  state  of  the  fact,  that  our  youth  cannot 
receive  what  is  considered  a  finished  education,  without 
10 


110  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHAET. 

sustaining  a  very  formidable  trial.  How  few  compara- 
tively can  pass  through  a  College,  or  even  an  academy, 
to  the  work  of  the  ministry,  without  experiencing  a  diminu- 
tion or  loss  of  their  spiritual  vigour  ! 

To  frame  a  system  of  education,  which  would  avoid  the 
greater  number,  or  most  of  the  evils,  would  be  a  service 
of  incalcula,ble  value  to  the  world.  But  I  doubt  whether 
human  wisdom,  under  existing  circumstances,  is  competent 
to  the  task.  It  is  no  difficult  matter  to  furnish  expur- 
gated editions  of  the  classics,  and  to  produce  family  Gib- 
bons, and  family  Shakspeares ;  and  those  attempts  at 
purifying  the  foul  stream  of  classical  instruction  are  not 
to  be  despised.  But  while  so  large  a  portion  of  time  and 
thought  must  be  expended  in  these  pursuits,  and  while  a 
capacity  for  relishing  the  beauties,  whether  of  the  ancient 
or  the  modern  classics,  is  rated  so  high,  I  fear  that  the 
chief  source  of  the  evil  will  still  remain. 

The  principle  on  which  most  systems  of  education  are 
constructed,  is  the  relation  which  certain  attainments  bear 
to  certain  temporal  advantages.  The  problem  on  which 
they  are  all  founded  is.  How  may  an  individual,  at  the 
least  expense,  be  best  fitted  to  conduct  a  family,  to  teach 
a  congregation,  to  manage  a  counting-house,  or  to  guide 
the  state  ?  I  do  not  say  these  are  not  important  questions ; 
they  are  important,  and  they  are  the  only  questions  which 
the  world  can  ever  ask  and  determine.  But  surely  there 
are  other  questions  which  Christians  might  be  expected  to 
consider.  Do  not  the  relations  which  the  pursuits  and 
attainments  of  time  bear  to  eternity,  demand  their  con- 
sideration ?  Ought  what  can  have  little  tendency  to  pro- 
mote men's  interests  beyond  this  world,  what  in  many 
instances  injures  those  interests,  to  be  the  first  subject  of 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART.  Ill 

considera,tIon  ?  Is  it  quite  impossible  to  frame  a  system 
of  education,  in  which  all  the  lines  may  be  brought  to 
unite,  in  forming  the  intellectual  and  moral  powers  of  man, 
for  a  state  of  immortal  enjoyment  ?  A  system  in  which 
every  branch  shall  be  deemed  important,  chiefly  as  it 
bears  on  his  eternal  condition  !  A  system  in  which  what 
is  showy  and  superficial,  shall  be  rejected,  or  thrown  into 
the  shade ;  and  what  is  substantial  and  useful  placed  in 
the  fore-ground  ?  A  system  in  which  taste  shall  be  less  an 
object  than  character,  and  intellect  be  made  subservient 
to  morals  ?  A  system  in  short,  which  shall  have  the  prin- 
ciples of  Christianity  for  its  basis,  the  advancement  of 
Christianity  for  its  object,  and  the  rcAvards  of  Christianity 
for  its  end  ? 

I  do  not  conceive  such  a  system  to  belong  only  to  a  region 
in  Utopia.  It  is  perfectly  conceivable ;  but  before  it  can 
be  realized,  we  must  be  furnished  not  only  with  new  prin- 
ciples, but  with  new  men  to  inculcate  them,  and  with  a 
different  state  of  society  to  secure  their  operation.  Many 
as  are  the  evils  which  we  still  deplore,  much  progress  has 
been  made  during  the  last  thirty  years;  and  before  a 
similar  period  shall  have  passed  away,  it  is  not  too  much 
to  expect  that  the  strides  of  society  towards  a  better  state 
will  be  still  more  gigantic. 

As  the  present  work  may  fall  into  the  hands  of  some 
who  are  engaged  in  conducting  seminaries,  I  hope  I  shall 
be  forgiven  this  seeming  digression.  Considering  how 
many  of  our  youth  are  seriously  injured  in  the  training, 
how  many  bitter  regrets  are  afterwards  experienced,  even 
by  those  who  do  not  suffer  permanent  injury ;  and  how  few 
escape  altogether  without  damage,  I  can  scarcely  be  re- 
quired to  offer  an  apology  for  these  remarks.     Indeed, 


112  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    UEQUHART. 

tliongli  the  subject  of  these  mcmoiis  retained  his  integrity, 
and  passed  throvigh  his  studies  without  blemish,  I  know 
from  himself,  and  from  his  fellow-students,  that  "he  re- 
tained," (I  use  his  own  language)  "a  deep  horror  of  St. 
Andrew's."  He  meant,  I  am  sure,  no  reflection  on  the 
place,  none  on  the  Professors,  and  none  on  his  fellow- 
students.  But  he  considered  it  marvellous  that  he  got 
through  his  academical  course  without  ruin  to  his  soul. 
In  this  preservation  he  was  led  to  admire  the  exceeding 
riches  of  divine  grace  ;  but  it  must  appear  very  extraordi- 
nary, that  a  Christian  University  should  expose  its  dis- 
ciples to  such  hazards.  The  Tact  is,  the  profession  is 
Chr'stian,  but  the  entire  process  of  education  is  pagan,  or 
anti-Christian.  Religion,  instead  of  being  the  first,  the 
last,  and  the  main  object,  is  subordinate  to  every  other 
object.  The  minds  both  of  professors  and  students,  are 
absorbed  in  science  and  literature,  as  the  chief  objects  of 
pursuit ;  and  religion,  when  attended  to,  is  examined 
rather  as  one  of  the  sciences,  than  as  the  doctrine  of  God 
and  the  path  of  immortality.  While  this  system  is  pur- 
sued, it  is  not  wonderful  that  the  atmosphere  of  Colleges 
should  generally  be  unfavourable  to  the  vitality  of  Chris- 
tianity. 

Our  last  chapter  brought  the  subject  of  these  memoirs 
to  the  conclusion  of  the  third  year  of  his  University  course, 
and  the  seventeenth  of  his  age.  To  him  it  had  been  a 
year  of  great  interest,  and  great  exertion.  In  it  he  had 
acquired  a  large  portion  of  celebrity  among  his  associates, 
and  what  was  more,  he  had  laid  the  foundation  of  some 
of  his  most  interesting  plans  of  usefulness.  We  shall  now 
endeavour  to  trace  his  spiritual  and  intellectual  progress 
to  the  close  of  his  short  but  useful  life. 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART.'  113 

Returning  home  at  the  end  of  the  session,  after  visiting 
Edinburgh,  laden,  not  with  wealth,  but  "  with  honoui'S 
bravely  won,"  he  still  appeared  the  same  modest,  unpre- 
tending youth.  Hk  mind  was  fully  occupied  with  the  im- 
portance of  the  Christian  ministry,  and  especially  with 
the  necessities  and  claims  of  the  heathen  world.  I  had 
the  opportunity  of  seeing  a  good  deal  of  him  during  the 
month  of  June,  which  I  spent  at  Perth,  and  had  then 
many  conversations  with  him  about  his  future  plans.  I 
saw  the  direction  of  his  mind,  and  was  satisfied  what  would 
be  the  issue  ;  but,  from  his  extreme  youth,  being  then  only 
seventeen,  I  urged  upon  him  the  necessity  of  taking  more 
time  to  consider  the  subject,  especially  as  his  father  and 
mother  were  both  exceedingly  averse  to  his  going  abroad. 
I  advised  him,  as  there  were  then  some  difficulties  in  the 
^Yv.J  of  his  returning  to  St.  Andrew's,  rather  to  apply  to 
be  received  into  some  one  of  the  Dissenting  academies  at 
home ;  knowing,  that,  if  his  mind  still  continued  to  be  set 
upon  the  heathen  world,  the  opportunity  of  gratifying  his 
wishes  would  not  be  lost.  With  this  advice  he  complied, 
and  accordingly  addressed  a  letter  to  the  Committee  of  the 
Hoxton  Academy,  requesting  to  be  received  into  that 
institution.  His  reasons  for  adopting  this  line  of  pro- 
cedure are  well  stated  in  the  following  letter  to  his  friend 
Mr.  C : 

*'  Perth,  June,  1825. 

"  A  few  days  ago  I  sat  down  to  write  you,  and  wrote 
about  eight  pages,  which,  I  thought,  with  the  addition  of 
a  few  sentences,  at  present,  would  make  out  a  pretty  re- 
spectable epistle.  A  few  days,  however,  often  make  a 
great  change  in  our  feelings  and  our  prospects;  and  I 
10* 


114  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

perceive,  on  looking  over  the  pages  I  have  written,  that 
they  are  quite  unfit  for  sending  at  present.  The  last  time 
I  sat  down,  I  wrote,  with  the  full  expectation  of  soon  en- 
joying again  the  company  of  my  dear  friends  at  St.  An- 
drew's ;  and  I  write  now  under  the  impression  that  my  lot 
may  soon  be  cast  in  a  distant  part  of  the  island.  Mr. 
Adam  perhaps,  told  you  that  Mr.  Orme  is  here  at  present 
on  a  visit  to  us.  He  is  a  man  with  whom  I  have  been  on 
the  most  intimate  terms  from  my  very  infancy,  and  one 
who  has  ever  taken  a  deep  interest,  both  in  my  spiritual 
and  temporal  welfare.  Since  ever  I  have  felt  anything 
of  the  power  of  religion,  I  have  been  accustomed  to  look 
to  him  as  my  father  in  Christ,  and  have  ever  felt  the  most 
perfect  confidence  in  making  known  to  him  all  my  designs 
and  feelings.  Last  winter  I  wrote  to  him  expressing  my 
vicAVS  respecting  missions,  and  my  thoughts  of  devoting 
myself  to  this  department  of  the  Christian  ministry.  Since 
Mr.  Orme's  arrival  in  Scotland  I  have  had  much  conver- 
sation with  him  on  this  subject,  and  have  received  a  good 
deal  of  information  respecting  matters  in  the  metropolis. 
There  are  some  opportunities  of  instruction  in  oriental 
languages  to  be  enjoyed  at  present  in  London,  which,  if 
neglected  now,  may  be  lost  for  ever.  Dr.  Morrison  re- 
mains for  a  year  only,  to  give  directions  about  the  study 
of  Chinese ;  and  Mr.  Townley  remains,  it  is  not  certain 
how  long,  to  teach  some  of  the  more  important  of  the 
Indian  languages.  Another  session,  at  one  of  the  Scotch 
Universities,  although  it  might  be  attended  with  several 
very  considerable  advantages,  does  not  seem  to  counter- 
balance the  opportunities  I  have  hinted  at.  I  can,  in  a 
letter,  state  the  reasons  which  actuate  me  in  this  matter 
only  in  a  very  general  way.     It  is  not  likely,  should  I  go 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUIIART.  115 

to  London  this  summer,  that  I  shall  engage  with  the  Mis- 
sionary Society  immediately,  but  rather  that  I  shall  enter 
one  of  our  Dissenting  academies,  where  I  shall  be  able  to 
carry  on  my  general  studies  at  the  same  time  that  I  have 
an  opportunity  of  prosecuting  the  study  of  the  eastern 
languages.  On  the  whole,  I  feel  in  considerable  perplexity 
how  to  act.  I  need  not  tell  you  that  all  my  feelings  are 
in  favour  of  St.  Andrew's,  but,  I  honestly  think,  duty 
seems  to  point  in  another  direction.  Mr.  Adam  seems  to 
agree  in  thinking  it  my  duty  to  go  to  London.  I  have 
made  this  matter,  for  a  considerable  time,  a  subject  of 
constant  prayer ;  and  I  propose  setting  apart  a  day  for  the 
solemn  consideration  of  the  whole  matter,  and  for  the  pur- 
pose of  asking  direction  from  on  high.  May  I  entreat  an 
interest  in  your  prayers  ?  These  are  the  circumstances  in 
which  we  feel  most  the  privilege  of  a  free  access  to  the 
Father  of  our  spirits ;  and  these  are  the  times  when  our 
belief  in  the  revealed  declarations  of  his  character,  and  of 
his  will,  come  to  be  tried  ;  and  when,  if  that  belief  be  found 
real,  the  revelation  of  God's  character  can  give  the  greatest 
consolation  and  joy." 

With  his  application  the  Committee  were  much  pleased, 
and  would  have  readily  acceded  to  it ;  but  he  was  rather 
too  young  to  be  received  into  the  house,  which  was  besides, 
for  that  period,  already  full.  He  was  therefore  requested 
to  wait  for  a  year,  at  the  expiration  of  which  they  would 
be  glad  to  hear  from  him  again.  In  consequence  of  this 
failure  he  requested  to  be  admitted  into  the  Glasgow 
Academy,  under  the  tuition  of  my  respected  friends,  the 
Rev.  Greville  Ewing,  and  the  Rev.  Dr.  Wardlaw.  After 
some  hesitation  on  the  part  of  the  Committee  of  that  In- 


116  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

stitiition,  on  tlie  ground  of  his  having  devoted  himself  to 
foreign  service,  they  agreed  to  receive  him.  But  circum- 
stances changed  a  little,  and  it  appeared  desirable  that  he 
should  return  to  St.  Andrew's  to  complete  his  academical 
course. 

How  his  mind  was  exercised  in  regard  to  these  things 
will,  in  part,  appear  from  some  of  his  letters :  — 

"  Perth,  July  8,  1825. 

*'  My  very  Dear  Friend  —  An  opportunity  is  afforded 
me,  by  Mr.  Machray,  of  answering  your  interesting  letter, 
which  I  am  glad  to  embrace.  After  you  left  us,  I  had  a 
good  deal  of  conversation  with  my  friends,  on  the  subject 
of  my  destination ;  and,  having  set  apart  a  day  for  the 
solemn  consideration  of  the  matter,  and  imploring  divine 
direction,  I  came  to  the  resolution  of  making  application 
to  Hoxton  Academy.  The  issue  of  that  application  deter- 
mines me  to  remain  another  year  in  Scotland.  I  received 
an  answer  from  Mr.  Wilson,  this  week,  informing  me  that 
the  vacancies  were  all  filled  for  the  ensuing  session ;  but 
that,  if  I  could  profitably  employ  my  time  for  a  year,  they 
would  have  room  next  year,  and  better  accommodation,  as 
they  expect  to  enter  on  their  new  College.  In  connection 
with  this  matter,  I  have  been  led  to  consider  more  atten- 
tively those  passages  of  Scripture,  which  refer  to  mission- 
ary exertions,  and  the  result  has  been  a  deeper  impression 
than  ever,  of  the  duty  of  engaging  in  this  work.  It  is 
very  true,  that  much  has  to  be  done  at  home ;  that  there 
are  many  here,  as  my  friend  Craik  writes,  who  '  can  only 
be  considered  in  the  light  of  more  criminal  heathens.' 
But  this  is  a  wilful  ignorance :  they  are  not  '  perishing  for 
lack  of  knowledge.'     And  this  argument,  if  carried  to  its 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    TJRQUHART.  117 

full  extent,  would  stifle  missionary  exertions  to  the  very- 
end  of  the  world.  What  would  have  been  the  consequence, 
had  the  apostles  resolved  not  to  leave  Jerusalem,  till  every 
one  of  their  brethren,  according  to  the  flesh,  was  truly  con- 
verted ?  The  Gentiles  would  not  have  received  the  glad 
tidings  of  salvation  to  the  present  hour.  This  was  not 
the  commandment  the  apostles  received,  however;  and, 
accordingly,  they  acted  in  a  very  diflerent  manner.  They 
were  to  preach  the  gospel  to  all  nations,  beginning  at 
Jerusalem.  The  nation  of  the  Jews  had  a  claim  upon  the 
first  preachers  of  Christianit}^,  which  our  countrymen  have 
not  upon  us.  They  were  not  only  their  '  brethren  accord- 
ing to  the  flesh,'  but  they  were  also  God's  chosen  nation; 
and,  as  such,  it  was  right  that  they  should  enjoy  a  pre- 
eminence over  all  others,  in  first  receiving  the  proclama- 
tion of  pardon.  But,  how  did  their  brethren,  the  apostles, 
act  even  to  this  favoured  nation?  They  made  a  full 
declaration  of  salvation,  through  Christ ;  they  made  a  free 
tender  of  the  mercy  of  Jehovah ;  but,  by  almost  all,  this 
mercy  was  slighted  and  rejected.  By  thus  sinning  against 
greater  light,  these  individuals  became  more  criminal  even 
than  the  heathen.  Did  the  apostles,  therefore,  think  that 
they  should  not  go  forth  to  the  heathen,  till  all  these  re- 
jecters of  the  truth  were  convinced  of  the  error  of  their 
ways  ?  No ;  that  very  rejection  of  the  gospel,  by  their 
countrymen,  was  a  signal  for  their  departure.  '  Seeing 
ye  reject,  &c.,  behold  we  turn  to  the  Gentiles.'  Had  the 
gospel  been  proclaimed,  in  like  manner,  to  all  other  na- 
tions, the  apostles  would  have  felt  it  their  duty  to  have 
laboured  assiduously  among  their  brethren  at  home.  But 
while  there  remained  a  single  nation  on  the  face  of  the 
earth,  that  had  not  received  the  knowledge  of  salvation. 


118  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

they  felt  that  the  parting  commandment  of  their  Master 
^vas  not  yet  fully  obeyed  ;  and,  while  they  lived,  they  made 
it  their  business,  more  and  more  fully  to  execute  that  com- 
mand. But  their  missionary  spirit  died  with  them  ;  and, 
at  the  present  hour,  that  commandment  remains  still  un- 
obeyed. Is  it  difficult,  in  this  case,  to  see  the  path  of 
duty  ?  Besides,  I  cannot  see,  that  by  preaching  at  home, 
we  are  hastening  the  coming  glory  of  the  church.  God 
has  promised,  that  all  shall  knoiv  him.  He  has  not  pro- 
mised that  all  shall  serve  him.  On  the  contrary,  he  has 
said,  that  he  will  gather  his  people  out  of  every  nation, 
kindred,  tongue,  and  people;  which,  evidently  implies, 
that  all  shall  not  be  his  people.  Far  be  it  from  me  to 
depreciate  the  work  of  the  ministry  at  home.  It  is  a  most 
important  work.  But  still,  while  there  are  any  sitting  in 
darkness  and  the  shadow  of  death,  it  must  yield  in  import- 
ance to  the  missionary  field.  Besides,  who  can  tell  what 
an  effect  our  neglect  of  God's  commandment,  to  preach  to 
all  nations,  may  have,  in  causing  him  to  withhold  his  Spirit 
from  the  exertions  of  Christians  at  home  ?  I  must  abruptly 
conclude.  I  was  struck  with  the  variety  of  incidents  in  your 
last.  Let  us  contemplate  much,  my  dear  friend,  the  grand 
operations  of  God  to  our  world ;  and,  let  us  thus  learn  to 
feel  our  own  insignificance,  and  to  merge  every  selfish 
consideration  in  the  great  work  to  which  we  are  called." 

The  progress  of  his  religious  sentiments  and  feelings, 
the  following  letters  will  show. 

The  first  is  the  letter  alluded  to,  in  that  to  his  friend 
C ,  already  inserted.     It  is  too  valuable  to  be  omitted. 

"  My  very  Dear  Friend  —  The  receipt  of  your  interest- 
ing communication,  and  of  a  note  from  my  friend,  Mr. 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    UEQUHART.  119 

Tait,  accompanjlng  a  treatise  on  Confessions  of  Faith, 
Lave  been  among  the  most  remarkable  events  in  my  his- 
tory, since  I  wrote  last ;  they  have,  at  least,  been  almost 
the  only  varieties  that  have  broken  the  regularity  and 
sameness  of  a  ceaseless  routine  of  occupations,  repeated 
with  little  change  or  interruptions,  day  after  day.  Not 
that  I  am  displeased,  or  wearied  of  my  retirement,  for  I 
esteem  it  as  a  very  great  privilege.  But  I  preface  my 
letter  thus,  merely  to  remind  you,  that  though  you,  who 
are  a  public  character,  and  are  surrounded  by  all  the 
bustle  and  variety  of  numerous  avocations,  have  such  a 
body  of  interesting  matter  to  communicate,  that  you  pant 
for  utterance  in  the  expression  of  it ;  and  one  subject  lead- 
ing to  another,  the  stream  of  information  so  enlarges  as 
you  go  along  that  the  very  sheets  of  paper  seem  to  have 
foreseen  its  rising  magnitude,  and,  aware  of  what  was 
coming,  to  have  extended  their  dimensions,  in  proportion 
as  the  fund  of  your  information  increased  —  I  say,  though 
this  be  the  case  with  you,  you  must  remember  that  it  is 
very  different  with  a  solitary  recluse,  who  has  no  com- 
panions but  his  books,  (with  most  of  whom  you  are  better 
acquainted  than  himself,)  and  scarcely  any  engagements 
but  his  private  studies.  But  a  truce  to  this  trifling.  I 
must  proceed  to  answer  your  very  interesting  letter.  We 
may,  sometimes,  draw  illustrations  of  spiritual  things  from 
the  most  ordinary  occurrences  in  life ;  and  they  are  not, 
on  that  account,  the  less  striking.  Your  feelings  expressed 
in  the  beginning  of  your  letter,  with  respect  to  your  cor- 
respondence, struck  me  as  a  good  illustration  of  the  nature 
and  operation  of  faith.  You  knew  something  of  the 
character  of  a  fellow-creature,  as  much,  you  thought,  as  to 
entitle  you  to  rely  upon  his  veracity.     You  knew,  how- 


120  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

ever,  tliat  he  was  fallible,  and  subject  to  cliange ;  and  yet, 
on  this  previous  knowledge  of  his  character,  you  confi- 
dently expected  the  fulfilment  of  a  promise  he  had  made 
to  you.  The  time  of  its  fulfilment  came,  however,  and  it 
seemed  to  you  to  have  been  broken.  You  were  '  perplexed 
to  account  for  his  silence.'  You  tried  to  account  for  it  by 
some  expressions  of  regret  he  had  used,  that  he  had  made 
the  engagement ;  but  you  did  not  think  this  a  suflicient 
explanation  of  his  failing  to  perform  it.  Now,  what  was 
it  that  made  you  think,  even  in  the  face  of  existing  cir- 
cumstances, that  your  friend  might  have  performed  his 
promise  ?  It  was  your  faich  in  his  veracity,  founded  on 
the  previous  manifestations  of  his  character  which  you  had 
observed.  Now,  let  us  compare  this,  or  rather,  let  us 
contrast  it  with  our  faith  in  the  promises  of  God.  Instead 
of  an  imperfect  guessing  at  his  character,  from  displays 
of  it,  which  might  generally  correspond  with  what  we 
think  its  leading  characteristics,  but  which  sometimes 
speak  in  direct  opposition  to  them ;  all  the  manifestations 
of  the  divine  character  we  have  ever  beheld,  have  been  in 
perfect  harmony  with  each  other,  all  going  to  establish 
the  grand  truths,  that  the  '  Lord  is  good  ;'  that  '  the  Judge 
of  all  the  earth  will  do  rightly:'  and,  above  all,  to  demon- 
strate almost  from  the  very  nature  of  the  divine  existence, 
that  ^  with  him  there  is  no  variableness  or  shadow  of  turn- 
ing ;'  that  he  is  a  God  who  cannot  lie.  Now  is  it  not  very 
strange,  that  with  these,  so  sure  grounds  for  implicit  con- 
fidence, our  faith  in  the  divine  goodness  and  faithfulness 
is  so  weak,  as  to  permit  our  being  perplexed  by  any  of  the 
dispensations  of  his  providence,  however  dark  and  discour- 
aging ?  You  will  remark,  that  this  very  perplexity  is  an 
indication  of  a  certain  degree  of  faith ;  it  is  a  struggling 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART.  121 

between  our  confidence  in  tlie  individual,  and  tlie  circum- 
stances around  us  which  seem  to  impeach  his  character. 
If  this  circumstantial  proof  be  very  strong,  then  the  per- 
plexity indicates  a  very  strong  degree  of  confidence,  to 
enable  us  to  resist  the  conviction  of  this  strong  circum- 
stantial proof.  But  though,  in  these  circumstances,  per- 
plexity does  indicate  a  very  strong  degree  of  faith ;  yet  it, 
at  the  same  time,  indicates  an  imperfection  of  faith.  It 
may  require  very  strong  faith  to  stand  in  the  combat 
against  a  very  strong  enemy :  but  perfect  confidence  would 
do  more,  it  would  overthrow  the  enemy,  it  would  gain  the 
victory.  But  perplexity  implies,  that  this  is  not  the  case. 
It  implies  suspense.  It  implies  that  we  have  not  come 
to  a  decision.  It  implies  that  the  combat  is  yet  doubt- 
ful ;  that  the  victory  has  not  yet  been  gained.  Now 
is  it  not  strange  that  our  faith  in  a  creature,  weak  as  are 
the  grounds  of  it,  should  carry  us  so  far  ?  And  that 
strong  as  are  the  foundations  of  our  confidence  in  God,  it 
does  not  carry  us  further  ?  —  that  the  one  should  carry  us 
so  far  as  to  land  us  in  perplexity ;  that  the  other  should 
not  carry  us  so  far  as  to  extricate  us  from  perplexity  ?  Oh ! 
my  friend,  were  we  but  deeply  impressed  with  a  sense  of 
God's  all-sufiiciency,  how  much  of  our  unhappiness  would 
be  taken  away  !  There  would  be  no  murmuring  at  the 
dispensations  of  Providence  ;  there  would  be  no  regret  on 
reflecting  on  the  past,  but  the  regret  that  we  had  ever  de- 
parted from  God ;  there  would  be  no  fear,  on  looking  for- 
ward to  the  future,  but  the  fear  lest  we  might  again  break 
his  commandments.  Sin  itself,  from  which  we  can  never 
be  wliolly  freed  in  this  world,  would  still  remain  to  trouble 
us  ;  but  all  those  sources  of  misery  which  indirectly  spring 
from  it  would  be  removed.  And  by  a  continual  dcpend- 
11 


122  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

ence  on  God,  and  confidence  in  him,  the  power  even  of 
sin  itself  would  be  continually  weakening  within  us.  The 
firm  belief,  that  God  was  working  in  us  both  to  will  and 
to  do  of  his  good  pleasure,  would  encourage  us  to  work  out 
with  fear  and  trembling,  that  part  of  our  salvation  which 
yet  remains,  even  our  deliverance  from  the  power  of  sin. 
Connected  with  this  subject,  that  is  a  striking  passage, 
*  Walk  thou  before  me,  and  be  i]io\x  perfect.' 

"  But  I  am  awakened  from  this  long  reverie,  by  per- 
ceiving that  it  is  near  our  dinner  hour.  I  sat  down  in 
despondency,  thinking  I  should  find  nothing  to  say ;  and 
resolved  by  way  of  making  matter,  to  wi^ite  a  commentary 
on  your  epistle.  I  believe  I  shall  make  out  pretty  well  in 
respect  of  quantity,  if  I  paraphrase  the  whole  of  it  at  as 
great  length  as  I  have  done  these  first  few  first  sentences. 


Perth, 


"My   Dear   F :  I  take  the  liberty  of  writing 

these  few  lines,  in  answer  to  yours.  We  were  glad  to  hear 
of  your  safe  arrival,  but  were  sorry  to  see  the  same  depres- 
sion spread  over  your  letter,  which  we  had  formerly 
lamented  to  behold  in  yourself.  You  do  not  say  anything 
particular  about  the  state  of  your  health ;  we  trust,  how- 
ever, that  the  change  of  place,  and  the  bustle  and  excite- 
ment of  travelling  may  have  (partly  at  least)  removed 
your  nervousness.  Circumstances,  indeed,  seem  to  be 
very  depressing.  But  we,  my  dear ,  have  consola- 
tions that  should  bear  us  up,  and  even  make  us  glad  under 
the  severest  calamities.  That  climax  of  misfortune,  so 
beautifully  described  by  the  prophet,  in  the  verses, 
*  Though  the  fig-tree  shall  not  blossom,'  &c.,  has  not  yet 
by  any  means  come  upon  us;  and  shall  our  hearts  refuse 
to  join  in  his  triumphant  expression  of  gladness,  'Yet 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART.  123 

"will  I  rejoice  in  the  Lord,  and  joy  in  the  God  of  my  salva- 
tion V  We  have  a  still  surer  word  of  prophecy  than  that 
which  he  was  instrumental  in  delivering.  We  have  a 
surer  light  to  guide  our  footsteps,  and  brighter  promises 
to  cheer  us  on  our  journey.  And  shall  we  repine,  when 
all  is  comparatively  smooth  and  even  before  us  ?  When 
we  see  our  way  before  us  and  can  perceive  no  difficulty  to 
oppose  our  progress,  we  do  not  need  to  call  into  exercise 
our  trust  in  the  promises  of  God  ;  we  do  not  walk  by  faith, 
but  by  sight.  But  it  is  where  our  way  is  dark,  and  there 
seems  to  be  a  lion  in  the  path,  that  we  feel  our  weakness. 
It  is  then  that  our  faith  in  his  promises  is  put  to  the  test, 
who  hath  said,  *Lo,  I  am  with  you  always.'  Is  it  not 
strange,  that  we  can  believe  such  promises  of  support  and 
succour  as  are  written  on  every  page  of  the  Bible,  and 
ever  feel  discouraged  or  perplexed  ?  Such  a  belief,  were 
it  perfect,  would  transform  even  this  world,  with  all  its 
trials  and  afflictions,  into  heaven.  Such  a  faith,  however, 
is  unattainable,  while  we  are  wedded  to  a  body  of  corrup- 
tion, and  exposed  to  the  malicious  suggestions  of  the 
adversary.  But  though  this  faith  cannot  be  altogether 
attained,  yet  it  may  be  approached  to,  of  which  we  have 
some  most  triumphant  proofs  in  the  history  of  the  people 
of  God.     But  I  must  stop  short." 

"  Perth,  July, . 

"  My  Dear  C— — :  It  now  seems,  I  think,  determined, 
that  I  may  yet  entertain  the  hope  of  spending  another 
winter  with  my  dear  friends  in  St.  Andrew's ;  and,  as 
matters  have  turned  out,  I  feel  almost  sorry  that  I  did 
not  confine  within  my  own  breast,  those  painful  feelings, 
which  the  prospect  of  parting  naturally  excites.    Had  tho 


124  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

matter  been  determined  otherwise,  however,  it  might  have 
seemed  unfriendly  and  self-willed  to  have  asked  no  aid  in 
the  decision  of  it  from  the  counsels  and  prayers  of  my 
Christian  friends.  As  it  is,  the  decision  is  not  mine,  but 
has  chiefly  been  determined  by  circumstances  over  which 
I  had  no  control ;  but  which  have,  I  trust,  been  graciously 
ordered  by  him  who  is  the  God  of  providence,  and  who 
has  promised  that  all  things  shall  work  together  for  our 
good,  if  we  put  our  trust  in  him.  In  considering  what 
might  be  the  path  of  duty  in  this  matter,  I  was  a  good 
deal  perplexed.  Had  I  not  thought  at  all  of  engaging  in 
the  work  of  missions,  I  should  not  have  doubted,  that  I 
ought  to  finish  my  course  at  St.  Andrew's  before  entering 
a  Theological  Academy.  And,  on  the  other  hand,  had  I 
come  to  the  determination  of  devoting  myself  to  that  work, 
(especially  with  the  views  I  have  of  China  as  a  field  of 
labour,)  I  should  not  have  hesitated  to  present  my  services 
to  the  Missionary  Society,  at  present,  and  thus  avail  my- 
self of  the  advantages  of  personal  intercourse  with  Dr. 
Morrison.  Neither  of  these  was  the  case,  however.  It  is 
now  about  a  year  since,  I  thought  seriously  of  personally 
labouring  in  the  foreign  department  of  the  Christian  min- 
istry ;  and  although,  at  a  more  advanced  period  of  life, 
twelve  months'  consideration  and  prayer  might  seem  suffi- 
cient for  determining  a  question  even  of  this  importance ; 
yet  you  will  perceive,  that  my  extreme  youth  altogether 
alters  the  case.  If  my  wish  to  preach  the  gospel  of  Christ 
among  the  heathen,  have  in  it  aught  of  the  romance  of  a 
boyish  imagination,  a  few  years'  thought  and  experience 
will  extinguish  its  ardor ;  but  if  the  Lord  has  appointed 
me  to  declare  his  name  to  the  Gentiles,  and  that  wish  has 
been  implanted  in  my  breast  by  the  Spirit  of  God,  delays 
and  disappointments  will  but  foster  its  growth  and  make 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART.  125 

it  yet  more  vigorous.  For  these  reasons,  I  could  not  feel 
it  mj  duty  to  make  a  direct  application  to  the  Missionary 
Society,  to  study  in  London  under  their  superintendence. 
But,  on  the  other  hand,  the  facilities  of  acquiring  oriental 
languages,  which  the  metropolis  presents  at  present,  and 
which  are  very  uncertain  in  their  continuance,  make  me 
anxious  to  be  in  London,  if  possible.  After  considering 
the  matter  in  all  these  points  of  view,  consulting  my  friends 
here,  and  asking  counsel  and  direction  from  the  Most 
High,  it  seemed  to  me  my  duty  to  make  application  to 
Hoxton  Academy,  which  is  intended  chiefly  for  the  home 
department,  but  which  sometimes  also  receives  missionary 
students.  This  step,  you  see,  had  it  been  taken,  would 
have  given  me  all  the  advantages  I  could  wish  from  an 
immediate  residence  in  the  capital,  and  yet  have  left  my 
future  destination  still  a  matter  of  consideration  and 
prayer.  The  letter  I  received  from  the  Secretary  of  the 
Hoxton  Committee,  in  answer  to  my  application,  satisfies 
me  as  to  the  duty  of  remaining  another  year  in  Scotland. 
Had  I  not  made  this  application,  I  might  have  looked 
back  with  regret  on  the  opportunities  I  had  neglected ; 
but  as  it  is,  my  conscience  is  satisfied  in  having  done 
what  I  thought  was  my  duty ;  and  those  feelings  are  also 
gratified,  which  I  had  to  struggle  with,  in  the  performance 
of  that  duty.  Excuse  me,  my  dear  friend,  for  having 
dwelt  so  long  on  this  subject.  I  am  sorry  that  I  have 
spent  so  much  time,  that  I  have  little  remaining  to  answex' 
your  very  interesting  and  afiecting  letter." 

"  Perth,  September,  1825. 
"  My  Dear  Friend  —  I  do  not  know  whether  debts  of 
kindness,    like    other   debts,    admit    of    being   regularly 
11* 


126  ME  MO  IK    OF    JOHN    UPtQUIIART. 

summed  up  in  a  debtor  and  credit  column,  and  balanced 
against  each  other.  If  so,  though  you  confessed  the 
balance  due  to  me  in  your  last,  I  fear  your  punctuality  and 
my  negligence  have  more  than  reversed  the  matter,  and  I 
am  now  much  deeper  in  your  debt  than  ever  you  have 
been  in  mine.  I  will  not  attempt  to  offer  apologies.  I 
might,  I  believe,  conscientiously  spin  out  some  that  would 
appear  feasible,  but  I  am  always  suspicious  of  the  sin- 
cerity of  a  man's  sorrow  who  expresses  great  contrition 
for  a  fault  he  has  committed,  which,  at  the  same  time,  he 
labours  with  all  his  might  to  extenuate  by  every  trifling 
excuse  that  can,  or  scarcely  can  be  alleged  for  it.  I  have 
been  negligent ;  you  will  forgive  me ;  and  there  the  matter 
must  rest.  I  was  much  struck  with  the  spirit  of  earnest 
affection  and  fervent  piety  that  pervaded  your  last ;  and 
the  account  you  give  of  the  employment  of  your  leisure 
hours  sufficiently  explains  the  greater  vividness  of  your 
spiritual  affections.  There  is  a  beautiful  action  and  reac- 
tion of  our  religious  feelings  and  actions  upon  each  other ; 
grace,  shown  to  us  by  God,  prompts  us  to  deeds  of  charity 
to  our  fellow-men  ;  and  these  deeds,  all-imperfect  and  even 
displeasing  to  God,  as  they  must  be  in  themselves  from 
the  sin  that  mingles  with  the  purest  of  them,  are  again 
rewarded  by  a  fresh  supply  of  the  favour  of  our  God,  which 
must  again  lead  to  deeds  of  yet  more  extended  benevo- 
lence, which  are  again  to  meet  with  a  richer  reward  from 
the  inexhaustible  resources  of  Almighty  goodness.  It  is 
thus,  that  he  who  waters  others  is  watered  himself;  and 
of  such  an  individual  John  Bunyan's  paradoxical  Hnes  are 
strikingly  true : 

*'  *  A  man  thoro  was,  though  some  did  count  him  mad, 
Thu  more  ho  cast  away,  the  mure  he  had.' 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART.  127 

I  say  not  these  things  to  flatter  you.  Even  where  the 
richest  rewards  are  given  for  the  most  indefatigable  labours 
of  love,  we  must  ever  remember  that  no  reward  is  deserved, 
and  the  individual  should  be  ready  to  exclaim,  with  him 
who  was  instant  in  season  and  out  of  season  in  the  duties 
of  his  office,  and  who  was  conscious  that  his  labours  were 
more  abundant  than  those  of  any  of  his  brethren,  '  Yet 
not  I,  but  the  grace  of  God  that  was  with  me.'  I  thank 
you  for  your  very  kind  admonitions  on  my  weakness  of 
faith.  It  has  much  to  struggle  with  in  a  heart  that  is  but 
partially  renewed  ;  I  fear  very  much  that  unsanctified  con- 
fidence which  is  the  most  fearful  temptation  with  which 
the  adversary  can  assail  us ;  a  confidence  that  sin  cannot 
damp ;  a  confidence  that,  in  some  cases,  the  approach  of 
death  itself  will  not  destroy,  but  which  will  lead  its  pos- 
sessor to  the  very  gate  of  heaven  and  will  only  be  dis- 
pelled when  the  fearful  response  is  given,  '  I  never  knew 
you,  depart  from  me  ye  workers  of  iniquity.'  Then  he 
who  has  been  deceived  by  its  delusive  whispers  of  '  peace, 
peace,  when  there  was  no  peace,'  shall  exclaim  in  the  very 
paroxysm  of  astonishment  and  despair,  ^  The  harvest  is 
past,  the  summer  is  ended,  and  I  am  not  saved  !'  The 
consideration  of  such  a  case  as  this,  should  make  us  '  ex- 
amine ourselves,  whether  we  be  in  the  faith.'  It  is  true, 
that,  if  we  look  to  ourselves  for  comfort,  we  shall  never 
obtain  it ;  but,  it  is  equally  true,  that,  if  the  gospel  is  not 
to  us  the  spring  of  holiness  as  well  as  the  source  of  our 
comfort,  '  we  are  deceiving  ourselves  and  the  truth  is  not 
in  us.'  We  must  not  dread  the  discovery  that  we  have 
been  making  little  progress,  or  even  that  we  have  been 
pursuing  a  retrograde  motion  in  the  Christian  course ;  nor 
must  we  smother  every  emotion  of  insecui'itj  and  danger 


128  MEMOIR    OP    JOHN    URQUHART. 

that  may  rise  on  such  a  review.  True,  we  must  not  cherish 
such  emotions,  and  rest  in  them  till  they  lead  us  to  despair. 
They  must  lead  us  anew  to  the  blood  of  sprinkling.  That 
which  gave  consolation  when  all  we  could  look  back  upon 
was  an  unbroken  course  of  rebellion,  will  give  consolation 
still ;  and  it  is  only  by  such  a  process,  I  conceive,  that 
true  comfort  can  be  obtained." 

During  the  summer  months,  besides  teaching  a  Sabbath- 
school  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Perth,  and  keeping  his 
meeting  with  the  young  men  once  a  week  for  conversation 
on  the  Scriptures,  he  diligently  pursued  his  studies  and  a 
course  of  reading.  From  some  memoranda  among  his 
papers,  I  find  that  he  kept  a  regular  account  of  every 
day's  employment.  It  commences  on  the  12th  of  May, 
on  which  day  he  arrived  at  his  father's.  It  then  lays 
down  the  following  plan  of  study  and  occupation  for  the 
future :  "  To  rise  at  seven  o'clock ;  Greek  Testament  till 
eight ;  walk  till  nine ;  breakfast  between  nine  and  ten ; 
Hebrew  Psalms  till  eleven ;  Mathematics  till  twelve ; 
French  till  one ;  Greek  till  two ;  English  reading  till 
three ;  dinner,  three  to  four ;  Latin,  four  to  six ;  tea,  six 
to  seven.     Walk,"  &c. 

At  the  end  of  September  is  the  following  summary  of 
his  occupations  for  the  preceding  months :  "  Greek  Testa- 
ment, Matthew  to  the  Epistle  to  the  Romans.  Revised 
one  hundred  and  eighty-four  pages  of  Hebrew  Grammar. 
Read  forty  verses  of  Hebrew  Psalms.  Revised  six  books 
of  Euclid's  Elements ;  one  hundred  and  twenty  pages  of 
Bridge's  Algebra;  wrote  one  essay  and  fifteen  letters. 
Read  seventy-two  Lectures  of  Brown's  Philosophy ;  Bax- 
ter's Saint's  Rest ;  Gilbert's  Life  of  Williams ;  Edwards 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART.  129 

on  Religious  Affections  ;  Narrative  of  a  Tour  to  the  Grande 
Chartreuse  ;  Home's  Letters  on  Missions  ;  Orme's  Letter 
to  L-ving ;  fourteen  Miscellaneous  Discourses." 

It  is  evident,  from  this  statement,  that  he  did  not  pass 
his  time  idly  or  unprofitablj.  It  does  not,  however,  con- 
tain the  whole  of  his  employments.  Besides  what  is  men- 
tioned above  it  appears  from  the  daily  entries,  that  he 
read  several  of  the  Orations  of  Cicero ;  considerable  por- 
tions of  Homer,  Thucydides,  &c.  He  besides  met  with 
several  interruptions,  which  repeatedly  engrossed  most  of 
his  time  for  a  number  of  days  together. 

The  following  excellent  letter  he  wrote  to  his  friend 
Craik,  shortly  before  he  went  to  London :  — 

"  Barossa  Place,  September  3,  1825. 

"My  very  Dear  Friend  —  I  am  astonished  to  find, 
on  looking  to  the  date  of  your  last,  that  it  is  so  long  since 
I  received  it :  and,  probably,  if  you  have  been  expecting  a 
letter,  the  time,  that  has  seemed  to  me  like  a  few  hours, 
may  have  been  felt  by  you  as  if  longer  than  it  actually  is. 
At  least,  so  I  feel.  I  always  think  my  friends  are  very 
long  in  answering  my  letters,  and  yet  I  find,  that,  even 
when  I  conceived  myself  most  punctual,  I  am  more  dila- 
tory than  any  of  my  correspondents.  That  is  an  apt 
personification  of  time,  which  represents  him  as  a  decrepit 
old  man  with  wings,  that  are  visible  only  from  behind. 
While  we  watch  his  approach  he  seems  to  creep  tardily 
along :  it  is  not  till  he  has  passed  us  that  we  perceive  he 
has  been  flying.  I  cannot  tell  you  how  much  I  felt  on  the 
receipt  of  your  very  splendid  and  very  affectionate  pre- 
sent. It  has  become  so  common,  from  the  higher  refine- 
ment of  our  day,  in  the  acknowledgment  of  the  most 


130  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

common-place  favour,  for  an  individual  to  allege  that  lie 
cannot  express  his  gratitude,  that  I  am  almost  ashamed 
to  use  the  much-hacknejed  phrase.  But,  in  my  case,  it 
is  used  in  simple  honesty ;  and  I  know  you  will  believe  me 
when  I  say  so.  The  word  'memorial,'  in  the  inscription, 
which  of  course  struck  my  eye  before  reading  your  letter, 
affected  me  a  good  deal.  I  feared  it  was  prophetic  of 
separation,  and  looked  anxiously  over  your  letter  for  the 
passage  which  should  tell  me  that  you  had  got  an  appoint- 
ment to  some  situation  which  would  prevent  our  meeting 
in  St.  Andrew's  next  winter.  I  was  agreeably  relieved 
from  my  anxiety  by  finding  in  your  last  page,  instead  of 
an  account  of  your  fancied  removal,  a  proposal  of  lodging 
in  the  same  house  with  me.  And  I  was  pleased  to  think, 
that,  by  calling  your  present  a  '  memorial'  of  our  friend- 
ship, you  meant,  perhaps,  to  remind  me  of  the  fleeting 
nature  of  our  intercourse ;  which  soon,  it  may  be  very 
soon,  will  exist  only  in  the  recollection  of  the  past. 

"  My  alternations  of  feeling  somewhat  resembled  those 
of  one,  who,  on  returning  after  a  long  absence,  to  the  land 
of  his  nativity,  should  ask  some  passer-by,  in  pointing  to 
a  sepulchral  pile  before  them,  whose  monument  that  was 
which  seemed  to  have  been  so  lately  erected,  and  should 
be  answered  by  the  mention  of  the  name  of  one  whom  he 
remembered  as  one  of  the  dearest  companions  of  his  youth, 
and  in  whose  company  he  had  yet  hoped  again  to  revive 
the  recollection  of  joys  that  had  long  departed,  —  a  feel- 
ing, in  some  respects,  more  pleasing  even  than  the  joys 
themselves  ;  but  whose  informer,  on  perceiving  the  gloom 
that  had  overcast  his  countenance,  should  rejoin,  not  to 
think  that  he  was  dead,  he  was  still  alive  for  whom  that 
monument  was  intended ;  he  had  built  it,  not  like  many 


MEMOIR    OP    JOHN    UEQUHART.  131 

who  In  lifetime  raise  a  splendid  mausoleum  for  their  dust, 
as  if  to  demonstrate  that  infatuated  man  can  be  proud 
even  of  his  frailty ;  but  to  stimulate  him  to  greater  dili- 
gence in  the  improvement  of  a  season,  in  which  so  much 
has  to  be  done,  which,  at  its  longest,  is  so  very  short,  and 
which  even  were  it  longer  is  so  very  uncertain.  But 
whither  am  I  wandering  ?  Excuse  a  mind  that  is  some- 
times too  fond  of  amplifying  trifles.  I  would  scarcely 
write  in  such  a  motley  strain  to  any  but  yourself.  If, 
however,  Cowper  published  a  moral  poem  on  '  The  Sofa,' 
I  may  be  excused  for  moralizing  in  a  private  letter,  on 
the  word  '  memorial.'  " 

^  Hs  5}s  *  *  * 

"  Most  of  Newton's  Letters  I  have  read,  and  those  I  read 
with  very  great  pleasure.  And,  though  not  perhaps  after 
this  particular  author  that  I  remember,  yet,  frequently 
after  perusing  such  authors,  have  I  shared  in  the  feelings 
you  express;  a  fear,  that  the  spirit  that  animated  such 
men  is  fast  declining.  Often  have  I  asked  myself  the 
question.  Is  not  Christianity  the  same  now  as  it  was  in  the 
days  of  Owen  and  Baxter,  and  Newton?  and  why  then  is 
it  that  we  now  so  seldom  meet  w^ith  'living  epistles  of 
Christ,'  such  as  they  were  ?  If  we  do  not  observe  this 
lukewarmness,  the  world  will.  If  we  do  not  use  it  as  an 
incitement  to  greater  fervency  of  prayer  for  the  reviving 
influences  of  the  divine  Spirit,  infidels  will  make  their  use 
of  it,  in  drawing  from  it  arguments  against  the  power  of 
religion.  I  have  often  thought  that  I  perceived  arguments 
against  evangelical  religion,  far  stronger  than  its  opposers 
have  ever  adduced ;  and  I  have  wondered  how  they  could 
escape  the  notice  of  such  acute  men  as  we  have  often  had 
to  mourn  over  among  the  'enemies  of  the  cross  of  Christ.' 


132  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

I  tlilnk  it  is  the  pious  Newton,  of  whom  we  have  just  been 
speaking,  who  thinks  he  perceives  in  this,  the  watching  of 
a  gracious  Providence,  lest  the  mind  of  a  weak  believer 
should  be  shaken  by  the  corroboration  of  those  arguments 
from  another,  which  must  often  have  appeared  fearfully 
alarming  in  his  own  experience.  Were  the  opposers  of 
evangelical  truth,  instead  of  their  worn-out  vocabulary  of 
opprobrious  epithets,  to  employ  fair  arguments  from  the 
inconsistency  of  Christians,  many  of  us  would  be  struck 
dumb.  If  '  our  treasure  be  in  heaven,  our  heart  will  be 
there  also.'  And  if  our  heart  be  there,  since  it  is  '  out 
of  the  abundance  of  the  heart  the  mouth  speaketh,'  our 
conversation  will  be  about  heavenly  things.  How  differ- 
ent, however,  is  the  case  !  On  this  subject  there  are  two 
or  three  very  beautiful  verses,  which  I  have  just  read,  in 
a  collection  of  hymns,  by  Thomas  Kelly,  (I  know  very 
little  about  the  author ;  the  volume  I  quote  them  from 
belongs  to  a  sister  of  Robert  Trail's)  in  which,  although 
there  is  no  great  strength  of  conception,  or  beauty  of 
imagery,  there  are  contained  some  strains  of  lively  piety 
and  Christian  feeling,  expressed  in  very  simple  language. 
Such,  I  think,  are  these  verses,  paraphrased  from,  or 
rather  suggested  by,  Malachi  iii.  16.  '  Then  they  that 
feared  the  Lord,  spake  often  one  to  another,'  &c. 

" '  Why  should  believers,  when  they  meet, 

Not  speak  of  Christ,  the  King  they  own  ; 
Who  gives  them  hope  that  they  shall  sit 
With  him  for  ever  on  his  throne  ? 

Is  any  other  name  so  great 

As  his  who  bore  the  sinner's  load  ? 
Is  any  subject  half  so  sweet, 

So  various  as  the  love  of  God  ? 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHAET.  133 

'Tis  this  that  charms  reluctant  man, 

That  makes  his  opposition  cease  : 
Beholding  love's  amazing  plan, 

He  drops  his  arms,  and  sues  for  peace. 

'Twas  so  with  us,  we  once  were  foes. 
Were  foes  to  Him  who  gave  us  breath ; 

But  he  whose  mercy  freely  flows, 
Has  saved  us  from  eternal  death. 

We  look  with  hope  to  that  great  day, 

When  Jesus  will  with  clouds  appear, 
A  sight  of  him  will  well  repay 

Our  labours  and  our  sorrows  here. 

Of  Him  then  let  us  speak  and  sing, 

Whose  glory  we  expect  to  share ; 
In  heaven  we  shall  behold  our  King, 

And  yield  a  nobler  tribute  there/ 

*'  I  cannot  help  mentioning,  that  I,  last  week,  received 

a  letter  from  our  friend  Mr.  T ,  very  richly  imbued 

with  Christian  feeling.  Political  economy,  and  even 
church  establishments,  were  fairly  cast  in  the  shade ;  and 
there  was  an  earnestness  of  affection,  and  warmth  of  feel- 
ing manifested,  while  writing  on  the  grand  subjects  of  our 
common  faith,  and  expatiating  on  the  endearments  of 
Christian  friendship,  of  which  you  would  scarcely  believe 
our  phlegmatic  friend  susceptible;  and  with  which  only 
such  subjects  could  inspire  him. 

"  The  account  Mr.  T gives  of  the  employment  of  his 

leisure  hours,  sufficiently  explains  (to  me  at  least)  this 
increased  spirituality  of  his  mind.  He  had  been,  for  some 
time,  paying  daily  visits  to  the  *  house  of  mourning.* 
12 


134  MEMOIE    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

Two  of  the  people  he  has  been  accustomed  to  visit,  died 
during  the  summer ;  of  none  of  them  he  thinks  he  had 
hope  in  their  death." 

In  the  month  of  September  he  went  to  London,  on  a 
visit  to  his  friend,  Mr.  Adam ;  in  the  course  of  which,  he 
spent  a  few  days  with  me,  the  last  of  my  earthly  inter- 
course with  him.  The  following  extract  of  a  letter  from 
Mr.  Adam,  to  me,  notices  this  visit,  and  some  of  the  ob- 
jects which  occupied  his  attention  during  the  following 
"winter,  after  his  return  to  St.  Andrew's. 

"  At  the  close  of  the  session  he  persuaded  me,  before 
leaving  for  England,  to  spend  a  short  time  with  his  friends 
at  Perth,  which  1  did ;  and  before  returning  again  the  fol- 
lowing winter,  I  persuaded  him  to  pay  me  a  visit  in  return, 
at  Homerton.  During  this  visit,  he  was  introduced  to  Dr. 
Morrison  and  Mr.  Townley,  and  openly  expressed  the  wish 
he  had  fostered  previously  in  his  bosom,  to  devote  himself  to 
missionary  labours.  We  returned  to  College  together,  and 
being  linked  by  a  new  bond,  a  common  desire  to  benefit 
the  heathen,  we  applied  ourselves  afresh  to  our  general 
studies,  and  to  a  thorough  investigation  of  everything  re- 
lating to  missions.  For  this  purpose  w^e  searched  the 
sacred  Scriptures,  and  summed  up  our  inquiries  under  the 
head  of  precej^ts,  j^'^^opJiecies,  examples,  and  pr^omises. 
We  also  perused  Brow^n's  History  of  Missions ;  Home's, 
Ward's,  Milne's,  and  Judson's  Letters ;  the  Lives  of 
Martyn,  (which  he  read  repeatedly,  and  eagerly  drank 
into  his  spirit,)  Brainerd  and  Chamberlain ;  Ward's  His- 
tory of  the  Hindoos,  &c.  During  this  winter  our  Society 
flourished,  and  several  essays  were  read,  not  only  by  our- 


MEMOIK    OF    JOHN    URQUHART.  135 

selves,  but  by  others,  some  of  whom  we  believed  to  be 
inquiring  after  the  path  of  duty;  and,  as  I  perceived,  were 
not  a  little  influenced  by  the  powerful  and  affecting  man- 
ner in  which  John  pleaded  the  claims  of  the  heathen. 
With  a  sedulous  attention  to  his  engagements  at  the  Col- 
lege, he  found  time  to  visit  the  sick,  to  give  his  assistance 
at  some  little  meetings  formed  for  the  religious  instruction 
of  the  poor  during  the  week,  and  occasionally  to  supply 
some  village  stations,  where  there  was  preaching  on  a  Sun- 
day. I  had  forgotten  to  say,  at  the  beginning  of  this 
session  he  laboured  diligently  for  a  time  at  the  Chinese, 
and  actually  accomplished,  by  his  unaided  endeavours,  a 
translation  of  the  first  chapter  of  John's  Gospel.  Atten- 
tion to  so  many  different  objects  rendered  it  absolutely 
necessary  that  he  should  soon  relinquish  the  least  pressing, 
and  consequently,  as  I  believe,  laid  it  by,  and  never  after- 
wards resumed  it." 

In  a  letter  to  his  father,  from  London,  he  gives  some 
account  of  his  visit,  and  of  his  future  plans.  It  contains 
also  some  remarks  on  my  respected  friend.  Dr.  Morrison, 
which  are  so  just,  that  I  cannot  keep  them  back.  I  be- 
lieve the  character  and  manners  of  that  devoted  individual 
have  not  been  properly  understood,  and  in  some  quarters 
have  been  treated  with  a  degree  of  unintentional  injustice. 
His  long  and  retired  residence  in  a  far  distant  country, 
and  his  absorption  in  the  great  object  which  he  has  so 
ardently  and  successfully  pursued,  sufficiently  account  for 
certain  marked  peculiarities,  wliich  I  am  convinced  had 
no  foundation  in  any  obliquity  of  temper  or  disposition. 
Justice  to  one  of  the  most  enlightened  and  devoted  ser- 
vants of  Christ,  which  this  or  any  age  has  furnished,  re- 


136  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

quires  that  I  should  bear  this  testimony,  while  I  introduce 
the  observations  of  my  young  friend. 

"  Marshgate,  Homerton,  Oct.  20,  1825. 
"  My  Dear  Father  —  In  company  with  Mr.  Adam  I 
called  on  Dr.  Morrison  a  few  days  after  my  arrival,  who 
received  us  with  that  bluntness  by  which  his  manners  are 
characterized,  which  has  by  some  been  represented  as 
approaching  to  rudeness ;  but  which  is  evidently  not  the 
want  of  kindness,  but  a  superiority  to  those  petty  expres- 
sions of  it  which  are  often  used,  in  our  too-refined  age, 
as  a  covering  for  coldness  and  indifference.  Neither  did 
I  find  in  Dr.  Morrison,  as  some  of  our  friends  had  repre- 
sented to  me,  an  overweening  conceit  of  his  own  sphere  of 
exertion.  What  he  said  of  missions,  had  more  in  it  of 
calm  rationality,  and  less  of  enthusiasm,  than  I  should 
have  even  expected  from  a  man  who  had  spent  seventeen 
years  in  a  heathen  country.  Dr.  Morrison  very  kindly 
ofl'ered  to  introduce  me  to  his  students  at  the  Missionary 
Society's  rooms,  in  Austin-friars,  where  the  Doctor  attends 
three  days  in  the  Aveek,  to  give  instructions  in  Chinese. 
I  have  attended  there,  with  a  few  exceptions,  every  day 
since  my  arrival,  and  have  seen  as  much  of  the  mode  of 
studying  the  language  as  may  enable  me,  should  I  wish  to 
pursue  it,  to  do  so  alone.  Dr.  Morrison  has  ofl'ered  me  a 
loan  of  the  books  that  are  requisite,  which  are  very  expen- 
sive, (the  Dictionary  alone  having  been  published  at 
thirteen  guineas  ;)  and  has  also  made  me  a  present  of  a 
small  work,  which  he  has  just  published,  entitled  the 
^  Chinese  Miscellany.'  "With  these  helps,  I  hope  to  do 
something  at  the  language  this  winter,  in  St.  Andrew's, 
and  should  I  never  make  any  actual  use  of  it,  it  will  be  a 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART.  137 

good  mental  exercise.  I  have  not  yet  called  on  Mr. 
Wilson,  but  intend  to  do  so  before  I  leave ;  but  I  think  it 
likely  that  with  my  present  views,  my  case  does  not  come 
within  the  province  of  any  of  the  home  theological  acade- 
mies. My  plan  is  to  return  to  St.  Andrew's,  to  devote 
the  winter  to  my  ordinary  studies,  give  a  little  time  to 
Chinese,  and  more  especially,  along  with  my  dear  friend 
John  Adam,  to  consider  very  seriously  those  passages  of 
Scripture  which  relate  to  missionary  exertion,  as  well  as 
to  collect  from  other  sources  all  the  information  possible 
upon  this  interesting  subject,  and  to  pray  more  earnestly 
than  I  have  yet  done,  for  direction  in  this  particular  mat- 
ter. I  thus  hope  by  the  conclusion  of  the  winter,  so  far  to 
have  made  up  my  mind  as  may  enable  me  either  to  offer  my 
services  to  the  Missionary  Society,  or  to  apply  for  admission 
to  some  Dissenting  academy.  May  the  Lord  direct  me ! 
I  think  you  may  perceive  that  my  visit  to  this  place  has 
not  been  to  no  purpose.  There  is  much  general  informa- 
tion that  I  have  obtained,  which  the  narrow  limits  of  a 
single  letter  do  not  permit  me  to  communicate ;  and  much 
more  which  is  of  such  a  nature  that  it  is  not  very  easy  to 
communicate  by  writing  at  all ;  and,  on  account  of  which 
chiefly,  a  personal  visit  seemed  advisable." 

JjC  ?lC  'I*  'J^  5|C  5jC 

Dr.  Morrison  generously  presented  him  with  his  Dic- 
tionary ;  and  the  papers  which  he  left  behind,  sufficiently 
evince  how  ardently  he  entered  into  the  study  of  that 
difficult  language.  He  appears  to  have  mastered  some  of 
its  peculiarities  ;  to  have  committed  a  number  of  its  radi- 
cals to  memory ;  and  to  have  translated,  as  Mr.  Adam 
states,  the  whole  of  the  first  chapter  of  John. 

12*  _^^- 


138  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

It  was  during  this  session  that  Dr.  Chalmers  committed 
to  his  charge  the  Sabbath-school,  which  met  in  his  own 
house ;  and  I  am  sure  it  will  not  give  offence  to  that  re- 
spected individual,  to  find  a  record  in  these  pages,  of  the 
gratitude  and  affection  of  his  late  pupil,  for  the  attentions 
which  were  so  kindly  shown  him. 

"  St.  Andrew's,  December  6,  1825. 
"  My  Dear  Father  —  The  first  general  meeting  of  our 
University  Missionary  Society  was  held  yesterday.  This 
institution  seems  now,  under  the  blessing  of  God,  to  have 
weathered  all  the  opposition  that  threatened  at  first  to 
crush  it,  and  promises  fair  to  be  established  on  a  secure 
basis,  and  to  extend  the  field  of  its  usefulness.  The  digni- 
taries of  our  College  profess  to  have  quite  changed  their 
opinion  with  regard  to  it.  Dr.  Nicol  confesses,  that  the 
reports  we  sent  him,  gave  him  information  that  was  quite 
new  to  him.  Last  year,  we  were  refused  a  room  in  the 
College,  and  could  scarcely  obtain  a  place  of  meeting  in  the 
town ;  now  Dr.  Haldane  tells  us,  that  the  Divinity-Hall  is 
at  our  service,  or  any  other  place  which  his  influence  can 
command.  This  offer  we  did  not  accept,  as  we  had  already 
obtained  the  old  Episcopal  chapel,  as  a  place  of  meeting, 
which  is  more  comfortable  and  convenient  for  our  purpose, 
than  any  other  place  we  could  obtain.  Our  two  principals 
have  not  given  us  fair  words  merely,  but  have  testified 
their  sincerity,  by  sending  us  a  donation  of  a  guinea  each, 
with  the  promise  of  more  on  the  part  of  Dr.  Nicol.  These 
are  triumphs,  which  the  most  sanguine  advocates  of  the 
cause  would,  a  few  years  ago,  have  thought  it  not  only 
ridiculous  to  expect,  but  almost  foolish  even  to  wish  for. 
With  God,  however,  all  things  are  possible ;  and  it  is  be- 


MEMOIK    OF    JOHN    URQUHART.  139 

cause  we  expect  so  little,  and  desire  so  little,  and  pray  for 
so  little  on  the  faith  of  his  promises,  that  these  promises 
are  not  more  speedily  and  more  triumphantly  accom- 
plished. 

"I  think  I  mentioned,  in  my  letter  to  my  mother,  that  I 
had  engaged  to  teach  Dr.  Chalmers's  Sabbath-school  dur- 
ing the  winter :  my  school  at  Denino,  in  consequence,  is 
left  destitute.  I  have  heard  that  the  children  are  desirous 
that  it  should  be  begun  again.  Mr.  Adam  has  commenced 
his  operations,  and  I  have  been  giving  him  some  assist- 
ance. I  think  it  advisable,  with  my  present  prospects, 
that  I  should  engage  rather  more  prominently  in  such  em- 
ployments, than  otherwise  I  would  be  inclined  to  do. 

"  Dr.  Chalmers  has  been  more  than  kind  to  me  this  year : 
indeed,  I  feel  almost  oppressed  by  his  attention.  As  my 
school  is  held  in  his  house,  I  generally  sup  with  him  on 
Sunday  evening,  when  I  enjoy  much  more  of  his  conversa- 
tion than  at  set  parties,  as  he  and  Mrs.  Chalmers  are  then 
generally  alone.  I  was  very  much  gratified  by  a  walk  I 
had  with  Dr.  Chalmers,  to  visit  the  parents  of  the  children 
who  attend  his  school.  The  people  in  some  of  the  houses, 
seemed  to  recognize  him  familiarly,  so  that  he  is  probably 
often  engaged  in  the  same  labours  of  love.  He  thinks 
such  exercises  as  visiting  the  poor  and  the  sick,  the  best 
introduction  to  ministerial  labour.  '  This,'  he  said,  as  we 
were  going  along,  '  is  what  I  call  preaching  the  gospel  to 
every  creature.  That  cannot  be  done  by  setting  yourself 
up  in  a  pulpit,  as  a  centre  of  attraction,  but  by  going  forth 
and  making  aggressive  movements  upon  the  community, 
and  by  preaching  from  house  to  house.'  I  mention  these 
remarks  more  freely,  as  I  think  this  is  a  duty  by  far  too 
much  neglected  among  our  Dissenting  ministers." 


140  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

The  Sabbath-school  which  he  engaged  to  teach  this 
winter,  in  the  house  of  his  respected  Professor,  from  whom 
he  experienced  invariable  kindness,  appears  to  have  occu- 
pied his  attention  very  closely.  In  a  book  now  before 
me,  is  contained  a  list  of  the  names  of  the  young  persons, 
with  their  places  of  residence.  A  list  of  tracts  then  fol- 
lows, which  belonged  to  the  school  library,  with  Dr.  Chal- 
mers's remarks  on  the  character  of  each.  Then  a  list  of 
tracts,  and  small  books,  read  by  himself,  with  his  own 
account  of  their  nature  and  tendency.  He  has  also  writ- 
ten out,  very  fully,  some  of  the  school  exercises  on  the 
Scriptures,  which  do  great  credit  to  his  knowledge  of  the 
Scriptures,  and  his  tact  for  communicating  that  knowledge. 

This  winter  he  entered  the  Natural  Philosophy  class ; 
and,  likewise,  attended  the  Hebrew  class.  In  this  lan- 
guage he  had  before  made  considerable  progress,  by  the 
help  of  some  Hebrew  books  which  I  had  put  into  his  hands. 
He  likewise,  as  appears  from  his  papers,  studied  hard 
at  Chinese  for  some  time ;  and  only  gave  it  up  from  the 
greater  urgency  of  some  other  objects. 

His  mind  was  now  completely  absorbed  in  the  contem- 
plation of  future  missionary  labour :  and  to  this  object,  all 
his  pursuits  became  subservient.  The  letter  of  his  friend 
Adam,  shows  how  much  he  studied  it.  The  paper  book, 
containing  the  arrangement  of  the  plan  of  investigating 
the  subject  remains,  and  contains  many  extracts  from  the 
Scriptures,  and  from  various  books,  on  the  subject  of  mis- 
sions, and  numerous  references,  which  prove  how  very 
fully  he  had  examined  the  matter.  It  would  be  very  de- 
sirable, indeed,  if  those  who  offer  themselves  for  this  ser- 
vice, were  found  generally  to  possess  such  a  knowledge  of 
the  work  which  they  profess  to  undertake.    Almost  all  his 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART.  141 

letters  and  papers,  from  this  time,  bear  upon  this  subject, 
and  display  at  once  the  depth  of  his  piety,  the  ardour  of 
his  zeal,  and  the  large  portion  of  good  sense  with  which 
he  contemplated  the  service  of  Christ. 

Desirous  of  obtaining  advice,  and  of  engaging  the  prayers 
of  his  friends  on  his  behalf,  he  applied  to  those  in  whose 
judgment  and  piety  he  placed  confidence,  to  assist  him. 
The  following  is  a  letter  of  this  kind :  — 

"  My  Dear  and  much  Respected  Friend  —  It  is  now 
about  eleven  o'clock  on  Sunday  evening,  and  I  have  been 
engaged  almost  the  whole  of  the  day  in  public  exercises, 
so  that  you  will  be  disposed  to  excuse  a  hurried  letter.  I 
write  these  lines  chiefly  to  renew  my  request,  that  you 
would  favour  me  with  your  correspondence  on  a  subject 
which  now  most  deeply  engages  my  attention ;  the  deter- 
mination of  the  sphere  of  labour  in  which  I  can  most  use- 
fully spend  my  life,  if  the  Lord  spare  me,  and  honour  me 
to  do  the  work  of  an  evangelist.  I  do  not  know  whether 
there  be  any  impropriety  in  my  making  this  request ;  if 
there  be,  you  must  lay  it  to  the  account  of  my  ignorance, 
and  forgive  me.  Were  I  soliciting  your  advice  merely  for 
the  sake  of  promoting  my  own  interest,  I  should  feel  that 
my  request  was  stamped  with  a  character  of  very  gross 
egotism.  But  I  feel  that  I  am  the  property  of  Christ, 
and  of  his  church ;  and  that  even  my  feeble  services  may 
have  some  influence  on  his  cause ;  and  in  this  view  of  the 
subject  you  will  not  think  me  selfish,  in  desiring  your 
attention  to  what  might  at  first  appear  my  own  private 
affairs.  Almost  every  person  I  have  conversed  with  on 
the  matter,  urges  upon  me  the  duty  of  attending  to  the 
wants  of  our  own  country,  and  assuredly,  if  our  own  coun- 


142  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART.' 

trj  were  more  neglected,  or  even  as  much  neglected  as 
other  lands,  I  should  feel  the  argument  in  all  its  force. 
I  do  think  that  our  own  countrymen  have  the  first  claim 
upon  our  attention,  and  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  the 
first  preachers  of  Christianity  would  have  declared  the 
message  of  mercy  first  to  the  Jews,  even  though  no  express 
command  had  been  given  to  preach  to  all  nations,  begin- 
ning  at  Jerusalem.  But  I  cannot  see  how  the  claims  of  a 
native  land  can  be  stronger  to  a  Gentile,  than  the  claims 
of  their  own  favoured  nation  were  to  the  Jewish  Christians. 
On  this  account,  I  think  we  are  quite  safe  in  taking  the 
apostles  for  our  example,  in  their  conduct  towards  their 
countrymen.  They  did  not  wait  till  every  dark  corner  of 
Judea  was  fully  evangelized ;  far  less  till  every  heart  had 
been  savingly  impressed  by  the  truth.  It  was  no  argu- 
ment to  them  to  remain  in  Judea,  that  there  were  many 
who  heard  their  message,  that  after  all  had  refused  to  re- 
ceive it.  On  the  contrary,  this  was  the  very  signal  for 
their  departure.  (Acts  xiii.  46;  xxviii.  24-29.)  I  do 
feel  much  for  the  dark  places  of  our  own  beloved  country ; 
but  it  does  seem  to  me  that  the  evangelical  ministers  of 
Britain  could,  with  very  little  effort,  publish  the  gospel 
most  fully  to  every  individual  in  the  land.  And  they 
would  do  well  to  examine  how  far  they  are  not  guilty  of 
the  blood  of  souls,  in  not  making  more  vigorous  exertions 
for  the  heathen  around  their  own  doors.  If  a  pastor  of  a 
church  cannot  do  the  work  of  an  evangelist,  let  a  separate 
person  be  maintained  by  every  body  of  Christians,  for  this 
purpose ;  or,  if  each  church  cannot  accomplish  this,  let  a 
number  of  churches  join  in  order  to  do  so.  I  am  aware  that 
this  is  partly  done  by  the  itinerant  societies,  which  are  now 
beginning  their  operations,  and  I  rejoice  to  see  it ;  but 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHAET.  143 

still  this  is  but  a  very  feeble  effort,  compared  with  the 
necessities  of  the  case.  I  still  am  inclined  to  think  that 
the  publication  of  the  gospel,  as  a  message  of  mercy  to 
sinners,  is  the  grand  object  for  which  the  Christian  minis- 
try was  instituted,  at  least  it  is  one  of  the  greatest  objects. 
I  do  think  that  even  the  edification  of  the  body  of  Christ, 
yields  to  it  in  point  of  importance.  We  believe  that  if  a 
sinner  once  embraces  the  gospel,  he  cannot  finally  fall 
away;  and  even  if  his  progress  in  the  divine  life  should 
be  slow,  we  know  that  in  a  very  few  years  at  the  furthest, 
a  full  display  of  the  glories  of  the  divine  character  must 
burst  upon  him.  Now,  whether  is  it  a  more  important  work 
to  rescue  a  sinner  from  hell,  and  place  him  in  this  con- 
dition of  safety,  or  to  antedate,  in  a  very  slight  degree, 
the  happiness  of  a  future  state,  in  one  who  has  believed  ? 
For  all  our  advances  in  the  knowledge  of  divine  truth  here 
must  be  held  insignificant,  when  compared  with  the  im- 
mense addition  to  our  knowledge  and  our  happiness,  which 
we  shall  receive  at  that  time  when  the  dim  conceptions  of 
faith  shall  be  exchanged  for  the  bright  realities  of  actual 
vision.  I  beg  that  you  would  not  understand  me  as  esti- 
mating lightly  the  work  of  grace  in  the  hearts  of  believers. 
It  is  only  when  contrasted  with  the  work  of  regeneration, 
that  I  would  ever  think  of  it  as  of  secondary  importance. 
But  I  am  not  sure  that  the  work  of  grace  would  go  on 
more  slowly  in  the  hearts  of  believers,  from  the  attention 
of  the  pastors  being  more  called  to  the  work  of  evangel- 
izing the  heathen.  I  do  think  in  the  present  day  we  are 
apt  to  trust  too  much  to  public  ordinances,  and  I  would 
almost  like  to  see  Christians  more  thrown  upon  the  re- 
sources of  private  devotion,  and  more  direct  communion 
with  God.     Our  knowledge  of  divine  things,  to  be  sure,  is 


144  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    UKQUHART. 

small ;  but  oli !  that  our  piety  were  but  equal  to  our  know- 
ledge.   I  am  sorry  to  be  obliged  to  conclude  so  abruptly.'* 

His  correspondent  wrote  bim  an  excellent  letter  in  reply 
to  this,  which  produced  another  from  him,  which  I  subjoin : 

"  St.  Andrew's,  February  4,  1826. 
"My  Dear  Friend  —  I  feel  much  encouraged  by  your 
very  kind  letter.  However  clear  the  way  of  duty  may  seem 
to  be  marked  out  by  our  own  conscience,  still  it  gives  us  a 
much  surer  confidence  in  our  own  convictions,  when  they 
are  strengthened  by  the  concurring  sentiments  of  our 
Christian  friends,  especially  of  those  friends  whom  we 
highly  esteem.  I  am  not  sorry  on  the  whole,  that  hitherto 
my  friends  have  all  opposed  my  desire  to  preach  Christ 
among  the  heathen.  Perhaps  it  is  well  that  we  should 
have  to  wade  through  a  good  deal  of  opposition,  in  making 
up  our  mind  on  a  subject  of  such  importance.  There  is 
an  air  of  romance  which  invests  the  subject  of  missionary 
adventure,  when  first  it  is  presen«ted  to  the  mind  of  the 
young  disciple  ;  (what  Mr.  Malan  in  writing  to  my  friend 
Mr.  Adam,  calls  *un  trait  de  I'imagination  ;')  and  it  is  well, 
perhaps,  that  this  false  fire  should  be  damped  by  opposi- 
tion. It  is  a  principle,  I  believe,  among  the  Moravians, 
*  never  to  persuade  any  person  to  be  a  missionary.'  And 
perhaps  we  should  still  act  in  the  spirit  of  this  maxim,  did 
we  even  carry  it  so  far  as  rather  to  repress  than  to  stimu- 
late the  incipient  zeal  of  the  candidate  for  missionary  ser- 
vice. For  surely  if  our  desire  for  the  work  cannot  stand 
against  the  remonstrances  of  our  friends,  we  have  every 
reason  to  think  that  it  would  soon  be  quenched  amid  the 
heavy  and  lengthened  discouragements  which  must  be  met 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART.  145 

with  in  the  work  itself.  If  the  desire  to  serve  my  Saviour 
among  the  heathen  were  merely  of  myself^  it  is  not  like  the 
fickleness  of  my  natural  disposition  to  have  persevered  in 
it  till  now,  while  meeting  with  so  little  encouragement.  I 
do  trust  that  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord  has  implanted  this 
desire  in  my  breast,  and  I  know  that  he  will  perfect  what 
he  has  begun.  You  speak  of  the  difficulties  connected 
with  the  work  of  a  missionary.  I  can  assure  you,  my 
dear  friend,  that  as  I  have  perused  the  history  of  former 
labourers,  they  have  thickened  upon  my  view.  It  is  not 
to  the  natural  dangers  and  hardships  of  the  missionary 
life  that  I  refer.  It  is  not  the  prospect  of  encountering 
the  diseases  of  an  insalubrious  atmosphere,  with  a  frame 
that  is  not  very  robust,  which  affects  me.  If  we  perish  in 
such  a  cause,  we  perish  gloriously,  and  in  this  respect  we 

*  conquer  though  we  are  slain.'  There  is  something  sweet 
in  the  contemplation  of  suffering  for  Christ's  sake.  '  If 
we  suffer  with  him,  we  shall  also  reign  with  him.'     And 

*  the  more  we  toil  and  suffer  here,  the  sweeter  rest  will  be.* 
These  are  not  the  difficulties  that  I  fear.  But,  I  confess, 
I  do  tremble  when  I  think  of  the  spiritual  dangers,  the 
temptations  of  a  heathen  land,  where  all  those  barriers  are 
broken  down,  which  are  the  only  safe-guards  of  the  boasted 
virtue  of  the  great  mass  of  our  community,  and  which  ope- 
rate, perhaps  more  strongly  than  he  is  aware,  in  restrain- 
ing those  evil  propensities  and  worldly  lusts,  with  which 
even  the  Christian  has  to  contend.  I  have  been  very  much 
depressed  to  find  the  instances  of  apostasy  among  mission- 
aries, so  very  numerous ;  and  that  some,  who,  for  a  long 
time  did  run  well,  were  afterwards  hindered  by  '  the  lust  of 
the  flesh,  or  the  lust  of  the  eye,  or  the  pride  of  life.'  While 
I  look  at  this  dark  side  of  the  picture,  there  is  nothing 

13 


146  MEMO!  p.    OF    JOHN    URQUIIAUT. 

gives  me  any  comfort,  but  a  complete  reliance  on  the  faitli- 
fulness  of  Him  who  has  promised  that  as  our  day  is,  so 
shall  our  strength  be.  Oh,  for  a  stronger  faith  in  my 
Redeemer  !  a  closer  walk  with  my  God  !  I  see  that  spiritu- 
ality of  mind  is  the  main  qualification  for  the  work  of  a 
missionary,  and  this  is  the  very  qualification  which  I  feel 
that  I  most  want.  But  I  believe  that  He  who  hath  given 
the  desire  to  serve  him,  will  also  give  the  ability  to  fulfil 
that  desire.  I  know  that  though  weak  in  myself,  I  am 
strong  in  him.  And  I  will  rest  in  the  promises  of  his  love. 
Christ,  when  he  dwells  in  the  heart  by  faith,  can  impart 
of  his  own  omnipotence  to  weakness  itself;  for  through 
him,  (may  the  weakest  Christian  say,)  I  can  do  all  things. 
I  have  been  struck  with  the  view  you  give  of  the  pastoral 
oifice,  as  raising  up  labourers.  It  is  a  view  of  it  which  I 
had  not  sufficiently  considered.  When  we  look  intently  at 
one  object,  it  is  very  probable  that  other  most  interesting 
objects  may  altogether  escape  our  notice;  and  so  when 
the  mind  is  much  occupied  with  the  consideration  of  a 
single  object,  the  very  intensity  of  our  attention  to  it  may 
be  the  means  of  obscuring  our  perception  of  other  objects 
equally  important.  Dr.  Chalmers  has  of  late  plied  me  a 
good  deal  with  the  same  kind  of  argument  for  remaining 
in  this  country.  '  You  may  render  even  to  the  cause  of 
missions,'  he  says,  *  perhaps  greater  service  in  raising  up 
labourers  by  your  preaching  here.'  My  reply  to  this, 
however,  is  just  a  reference  to  facts.  Christianity  has 
been  long  preached,  and  many  converts  have  been  made 
in  our  own  land,  and  the  cause  of  Christian  philanthropy, 
moreover,  has  been  most  ably  pleaded  ;  but  notwithstand- 
ing, when  labourers  are  called  for,  the  eloquent  advocates 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUIIART.  147 

of  missions  shrink  back,  and  scarce  any  are  found  to  go 
forth." 

Among  his  papers  I  find  the  notes  of  a  speech  which  he 
delivered  at  a  missionary  meeting  at  Cupar  of  Fife,  on  a 
Monday  evening,  in  the  month  of  February.  It  was  writ- 
ten Late  on  the  Sabbath  night  preceding,  and  early  on  the 
Monday  morning.  He  walked  to  Gupar,  delivered  his  ad- 
dress, and  returned  early  the  next  morning  to  St.  An- 
drew's. It  is  full  of  ardour,  and  replete  w^ith  Christian, 
feeling,  though  perhaps  he  carries  some  of  his  views  a 
little  too  far.  I  should  have  given  it  in  this  place,  as  well 
deserving  of  insertion ;  but  being  somewhat  similar  to  an 
address  afterwards  delivered  at  St.  Andrew's,  on  the  same 
subject,  I  omit  it  to  make  room  for  other  matter.  Such 
an  address  by  one  so  young,  could  not  fail  to  produce  a 
very  powerful  effect.  I  pray  that  those  who  read  it,  may 
feel  it  equally  with  those  who  heard  it. 

Much  as  John's  mind  w^as  engaged  with  foreign  objects, 
he  did  not  forget  those  who  had  a  claim  upon  him  at  home. 
His  own  family,  and  a  few  particular  friends  were  the 
objects  of  bis  warmest  attachment ;  and  for  the  salvation 
of  some  of  them  he  laboured  faithfully  with  themselves, 
and  wrestled  mightily  with  God.  I  venture  to  give  the 
following  to  his  brother,  as  a  specimen  of  combined  fidelity 
and  tenderness  of  rare  occurrence.  There  is  also  in  that 
letter,  and  in  the  one  which  follows,  to  his  mother,  a  mani- 
festation of  that  exquisite  sensibility,  which  characterized 
him,  and  which  made  his  devotion  to  the  work  of  a  mis- 
sionary no  ordinary  sacrifice.  The  prospect  of  leaving 
his  country  and  his  father's  house,  was  to  him  one  of  inex- 
pressible anguish;  but  the  consideration  of  what  was  due 


148  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    UIIQUHART. 

to  the  autlioritj  and  glory  of  Christ,  impelled  him  forward. 
With  talents  not  inferior  to  those  of  Martyn,  he  had  feel- 
ings no  less  powerful  than  those  of  that  devoted  mission- 
ary ;  and  though  he  was  not  honoured  to  follow  him  in  his 
glorious  career,  yet  as  having  it  in  his  heart,  I  doubt  not 
he  now  inherits  with  him  a  portion  of  his  reward. 

"  St.  Andrew's,  February  10,  1825. 

^' My  VERY  Dear  Brother  —  I  have  long  thought  of 
writing  to  you ;  and,  indeed,  had  a  letter  half  finished  a 
week  or  two  ago.  I  have  at  last  been  able  to  get  a  day 
nearly  clear  of  engagements,  and  I  am  glad  to  spend  it  in 
making  up  a  packet  of  letters  for  my  friends  in  Perth.  I 
begin  with  you ;  and,  as  I  wish,  if  possible,  to  get  five  or 
six  letters  written,  you  will  excuse  me,  if  1  am  more  brief 
than  I  otherwise  should  be  in  writing  to  an  only  brother. 
I  have  often  wished,  my  dear  David,  to  have  some  closer 
intercourse  with  you  than  I  have  yet  had,  on  religious  sub- 
jects, either  by  conversation  or  by  letter.  The  latter 
method  is  the  only  one  in  my  power,  at  present ;  and,  in 
some  respects  I  think  it  the  most  advantageous,  as  we  can 
express  our  sentiments  both  more  deliberately,  and  more 
freely  than  we  perhaps  could  in  personal  intercourse.  I 
hope  you  will  not  think  me  obtrusive  in  bringing  this  sub- 
ject before  you.  Believing,  as  I  do,  that  not  only  a  right 
understanding  of  the  gospel,  but  also,  a  real  belief  of  its 
truths,  is  necessary  to  our  happiness,  either  here,  or  in 
that  mysterious  state  which  is  after  death,  you  cannot 
surely  wonder  that  I  should  be  anxious  to  know  the  feel- 
ings of  my  dearest  friends,  in  regard  to  this  important 
subject.  We,  my  dear  brother,  have  enjoyed  very  distin- 
guished privileges,  in  having  a  knowledge  of  the  gospel 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART.  149 

from  our  infancy.  But  although  early  religious  instruc- 
tion is  a  most  inestimable  blessing,  it  has  also  its  disadvan- 
tages. We,  who  know  the  gospel,  and  whose  early  pre- 
judices, (the  strongest  of  all  prejudices,)  are  in  favour  of 
the  gospel,  are  very  apt  to  rest  in  our  knowledge,  or  in 
our  attachment  to  certain  religious  opinions,  as  a  proof  of 
our  faith,  and  consequently  of  a  state  of  safety  in  regard 
to  another  world.  Now,  I  think,  it  is  of  the  very  greatest 
importance,  to  remember  that  there  can  be  no  belief  where 
there  is  no  feeling.  In  the  ordinary  aifairs  of  life,  we  are 
disposed  at  once  to  admit,  that  a  man  cannot  believe  any- 
thing, without  being  suitably  impressed  by  it.  And  how 
then  should  we  be  for  a  moment  deluded  into  the  opinion, 
that  in  this  one  instance,  where  the  truths  are  calculated 
to  make  the  very  deepest  impressions  —  in  tliis,  and  in  this 
alone,  these  truths  can  be  believed  without  being  felt? 
Would  you  think  me  censorious,  if  I  would  say,  I  feared 
you  were  not  a  Christian  ?  Would  you  not  be  quite 
startled,  if  I  said  I  suspected  you  to  be  an  infidel  ?  I  do 
not  mean,  my  dear  David,  to  make  either  of  these  asser- 
tions, far  less  to  do  so  in  a  spirit  of  censoriousness.  But 
I  will  confess  to  you,  that  I  have  an  uncertainty  of  the 
matter,  which  fills  me  with  the  greatest  concern  on  your 
account.  We  start  at  the  name  of  infidel.  And  we  are 
very  apt  to  think,  that  a  man  may  be  unregenerate,  and 
yet  very  far  removed  from  anything  like  infidelity.  We 
are  very  apt  to  think  that  there  may  be  such  a  thing  as  a 
half  Christian,  one  who  is  almost  a  Christian.  But  it  is 
silly  to  be  deluded  by  mere  names.  The  Bible  tells  us, 
that  '  he  who  helieveth  shall  be  saved,  and  he  who  helieveth 
not,  shall  be  condemned.'  We  are  told  of  no  transition 
State  in  another  world,  half-way  between  heaven  and  hell, 
13* 


150  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

or  nearer  the  one  than  the  other.  No ;  we  must  either 
rise  to  inconceivable  glory,  or  sink  into  unutterable  woe. 
The  grand  question  is,  Do  tue  believe  the  gospel^  or  do  we 
not?  This,  and  this  alone,  fixes  our  after-state.  If  we 
believe,  we  shall  reign  with  saints  and  angels  ;  if  wq  do  not 
believe,  if  we  have  hesitated  whether  we  should  receive  the 
gospel  or  not,  if  we  have  been  even  almost  persuaded  to 
believe ;  and  if  moreover,  we  have  been  possessed  of  all 
the  knowledge  and  even  all  the  graces  that  can  adorn  an 
unregenerate  character  ;  still,  notwithstanding  all,  if  mat- 
ters stop  here,  we  must  be  condemned  throughout  eternity, 
to  herd  with  the  very  outcasts  of  society,  with  blasphemers 
and  atheists,  with  liars  and  murderers.  This  is  a  very 
fearful  view  of  the  matter,  but  is  it  not  the  view  which  the 
Scriptures  present?  And  it  is  this  view  of  the  matter 
that  leads  me  to  fear,  and  even  (I  acknowledge)  to  sus- 
pect, that  my  own  brother  may  be  among  the  number  of 
those  who  are  securely,  and  even  cheerfully,  walking  on 
to  the  pit  of  endless  perdition.  This  is  an  awful  thought, 
and  I  have  felt  its  awfulness.  Often  have  I  wept  from 
the  bitterness  of  the  thought,  that  we  may  soon  part  never 
to  meet  again ;  and,  excepting  the  prayers  I  have  offered 
for  my  oiun  forgiveness,  the  most  earnest  petitions  I  have 
ever  presented  at  the  throne  of  mercy,  have  been  those  I 
have  put  up  for  a  brother  s  salvation.  I  believe  there  is 
an  efficacy  in  prayer,  and  I  am  not  without  the  hope  that 
these  prayers  will  be  answered.  I  have  sometimes  thought, 
that  I  could  see  that  you  had  a  conviction  that  all  was  not 
right  with  you ;  that,  after  all,  there  was  a  something  in 
Christianity  which  you  had  not  experienced.  I  could  re- 
member, that  such  was  the  state  of  my  own  mind,  when 
the  Spirit  of  God  first  strove  with  ray  rebellious  heart,  and 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART.  151 

the  hope  dawned  upon  me,  that  this  might  he  the  heo-in- 
ning  of  his  working  on  your  mind.  That  hope  has  often 
been  blasted  by  your  indifference,  or  your  open  rebellion 
against  God ;  but,  though  often  blasted,  I  will  still  continue 
to  cherish  it.  The  Lord  grant  that  it  may  be  realized. 
I  have  written  these  lines  for  your  own  private  perusal ; 
and,  therefore,  I  laid  aside  that  veil  of  propriety,  by  which, 
in  ordinary  life,  we  are  accustomed  to  conceal  our  feelings, 
and  I  have  laid  open  my  heart  before  you.  I  do  not 
think  you  have  the  hardness  to  laugh  at  my  concern  on 
your  account ;  but,  if  even  this  should  be  the  effect  of  this 
letter,  still  I  shall  not  regret  that  I  have  told  you  all  I 
feel.  This  letter  has  been  preceded  and  accompanied  with 
prayer,  and  part  of  it  has  been  written  in  tears.  God  is 
sometimes  pleased  to  work  by  the  most  insignificant 
agents ;  and  I  am  not  without  the  hope,  that  by  the  bless- 
ing of  his  Spirit,  these  confused  expressions  of  a  brother's 
heart-felt  desire  for  your  salvation,  may  be  made  the 
means  of  softening  your  heart,  and  leading  you  to  receive 
the  gospel  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  with  humility  and 
with  joy. 

^'  There  is  one  circumstance,  my  dear  brother,  that  has 
especially  led  me  to  open  my  heart  before  you  at  present, 
and  to  urge  thus  solemnly  and  earnestly  upon  you,  the 
acceptance  of  the  gospel.  You  have  heard,  probably,  that 
I  have  determined  to  spend  my  life  in  preaching  to  the 
heathen.  I  feel  that  even  the  innocent  pleasures  of  this 
life  are  all  of  them  unsatisfactory ;  and,  in  many  instances, 
tend  to  draw  the  mind  from  heavenly  objects.  And,  from 
all  the  information  I  can  collect,  I  am  convinced  that  I 
can  serve  my  God  more  effectually,  by  declaring  his  name 
where  it  never  has  been  declared  before,  than  by  repeat- 


152  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

ing  the  gospel  to  those  who  have  often  heard,  and  as  often 
refused  it.  But  the  thought  that  I  am  soon  to  leave  this 
land,  never  to  return,  makes  me  feel  it  a  more  urgent  duty 
while  I  remain,  to  press  the  truths  of  the  gospel  on  the 
attention  of  those  who  are  mj  countrymen ;  and  especially 
to  warn  most  solemnly,  and  most  earnestly  to  persuade  those 
who  are  dearest  to  me  by  the  ties  of  nature.  A  few  months, 
my  brother,  and  our  earthly  intercourse  must  be  for  ever 
at  an  end.  Shall  I  hope  to  meet  you  in  heaven  ?  0  give 
me  an  answer  to  this  question,  for  on  yourself  its  answer 
depends.  I  confess  that,  in  the  prospect  of  leaving  my 
parents,  one-half  of  the  great  burden  that  lies  upon  my 
mind,  would  be  removed,  could  I  confidently  rely  on  the 
religious  principles  of  my  sister,  and  especially  of  yourself, 
who,  in  a  short  time,  will  be  their  onli/  son,  and  almost 
their  only  earthly  protector.  There  are  occurrences  that 
must  here  present  themselves  to  your  mind,  which  you 
must  know,  wound  my  feelings  most  deeply  in  the  pros- 
pect of  separation  ;  but  these  I  will  not  call  to  mind.  0 
that  the  God  of  the  families  of  Israel  may  cause  his  peace 
to  abide  upon  my  father's  house  ! 

"  You  know  that  my  parents  feel  deeply  at  the  thought 
of  my  departure.  I  am  sure,  that  if  they  could  feel  a 
thorough  confidence  in  you,  my  brother,  it  would  go  far  to 
reconcile  them  to  what  I  believe  to  be  the  will  of  God 
concerning  me.  I  know,  my  dear  David,  that  you  are 
often  placed  in  difficult  circumstances  ;  but  a  belief  of  the 
gospel,  and  a  spirit  of  prayer,  will  go  far  to  enable  you  to" 
act  calmly  and  meekly  under  the  most  trying  circum- 
stances. Believe  in  Jesus  Christ,  and  look  to  him,  and 
in  looking  to  him,  you  will  reflect  his  image ;  you  will 
become  like  him.     Thus,  and  thus  alone,  will  you  learn. 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    U'RQUHAKT.  153 

like  him,  when  you  are  reviled,  not  to  revile  again ;  and 
even  when  you  suffer,  not  to  threaten. 

"  You  see,  my  brother,  I  have  many  reasons  for  urging 
upon  you  these  solemn  warnings  and  earnest  entreaties. 
I  beseech  you  to  believe  in  Christ.  I  beseech  you  to  take 
his  yoke  upon  you,  and  learn  of  him,  for  '  his  yoke  is  easy, 
and  his  burden  is  light.'  I  beseech  you  to  learn  of  him  to 
be  meek  and  lowly.  I  entreat  you  to  do  these  things,  if 
you  would  save  your  own  soul :  if  you  would  fulfil  the  best 
and  most  earnest  wishes  of  an  affectionate  and  only 
brother ;  if  you  would,  in  some  degree,  alleviate  the  sor- 
row of  one  who  is  soon  to  part  with  all  he  holds  dear  on 
earth ;  and  finally,  if  you  would  comfort  our  bereaved 
parents,  if  you  would  make  up  the  breach  which  the  resist- 
less hand  of  death  has  so  lately  made,  and  which  the  im- 
perious calls  of  duty  soon  must  make  again,  in  that  little 
family  which  I  must  try  to  think  no  longer  my  home." 

"  St.  Andrew's,  February  14,  1826. 
"  My  Dear  Mother  —  My  work  of  letter  writing  has 
taken  up  nearly  all  my  private  time,  for  two  days ;  and  I 
still  feel  that  there  are  some  who  may  be  expecting  to 
hear  from  me,  to  whom  it  will  be  quite  impossible  for  me 
to  write.  Although  I  have  written  to  my  father,  (which 
I  always  think  the  same  as  writing  to  you,)  yet  I  cannot 
think  of  letting  my  parcel  go,  without  sending  a  few  lines 
expressly  to  yourself.  All  my  friends  seem  doubly  dear 
to  me,  since  I  have  thought  of  parting  with  them.  There 
was  nothing  in  the  prospect  of  a  separation,  my  dear 
mother,  that  gave  me  greater  pain,  than  the  thought  of 
wounding  your  feelings  ;  and,  accordingly,  in  my  late  visit, 
I  was  very  much  rejoiced  to  hear  you  speak  so  calmly 


154  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

and  resignedly  on  the  subject.  Even  in  this  life,  God  has 
promised  to  restore  a  hundred  fold  anything  we  give  up 
for  his  sake.  And  I  do  think,  that  even  these  trials  in 
themselves  carry  a  blessing  along  with  them.  The  pros- 
pect of  an  early  separation  from  all  I  hold  dear  on  earth, 
bitter  as  the  thought  is,  has,  notwithstanding,  proved  to 
me  a  real  blessing.  I  have  felt  an  inexpressible  dreariness 
in  looking  forward,  while  I  think  only  of  the  things  that 
are  seen  and  temporal.  But  then,  the  very  dreariness 
which  seems  to  hang  over  my  earthly  prospects,  has  led 
me  to  look  more  earnestly  to  heaven,  as  my  home,  and 
the  place  of  my  rest.  And,  if  we  can  but  steadily  fix  the 
eye  of  faith  on  the  heavenly  inheritance,  the  glory  of  the 
promised  land  will  shed  a  brightness  even  over  the  gloomi- 
est part  of  this  valley  of  tears.  I  know,  my  dear  mother, 
that  you  have  many  trials ;  and  I  could  wish  much  to 
soothe  the  declining  years  of  that  dear  friend,  who  watched 
over  my  helpless  infancy.  I  would  like  to  be  able  to  make 
some  return  for  the  anxious  hours,  and  the  sleepless  nights, 
I  have  cost  you.  This  I  may  never  have  in  my  power ; 
but  wherever  my  lot  may  be  cast,  I  shall  never  forget  the 
tenderness  of  a  mother's  love ;  never  shall  I  forget  the 
affectionate  solicitude  which  brought  you  to  our  bed-side 
every  evening,  to  see  that  all  was  safe  with  us,  ere  your 

own  eye  could  close  in  sleep  ;  never  shall  I  forget . 

But  it  is  wrong  to  indulge  in  this.  Let  us  forget  the 
things  that  are  behind,  and  rather  delight  to  dwell  on  the 
glory  and  the  happiness  that  are  before  us.  Oh,  how 
highly  favoured  are  we,  my  mother,  with  the  blessed  hope 
of  a  glorious  immortality !  God,  it  is  true,  has  removed 
one  of  your  children ;  and,  for  His  sake,  you  are  called  to 
give  up  another ;  but  still,  though  the  cup  may  be  bitter, 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQITHART.  155 

it  Is  a  Father's  hand  that  has  mingled  it.  ^  Trials  make 
the  promise  sweet.'  You  will  be  able  now,  more  than 
ever,  to  enjoy  the  delightful  assurance,  that  the  Lord 
will  be  to  his  people  a  portion,  better  than  of  sons  and 
daughters. 

"  And  again,  if  we  but  think  of  what  Christ  has  done 
for  us,  we  shall  not  think  any  sacrifice  too  great  that  we 
can  make  for  him.  He  left  the  bosom  of  the  Father,  and 
emptied  himself  of  his  glory,  and  suffered  more  than  ever 
man  suffered,  and  died  for  us.  Should  we  not  then  feel 
all  the  force  of  the  argument,  which  tells  us  we  are  not 
our  own,  having  been  bought  by  Christ,  when  he  gave  his 
blood  as  our  ransom  price  ?  Is  it  not  then  a  reasonable 
service,  to  offer  our  bodies  a  living  sacrifice  to  him  ?  And 
then,  there  is  the  blest  assurance,  that  if  we  suffer  with 
him,  we  shall  also  reign  with  him." 

The  following  is  to  the  afflicted  friend,  to  whom  some 
of  his  former  letters  were  addressed :  — 

"  St.  Andrew's,  March  5,  1826. 
"My  very  Dear  Friend  — You  can  easily  conceive 
how  difficult  it  is  for  a  young  person,  enjoying  in  all  its 
fulness,  the  inestimable  blessing  of  health,  and  whose  mind 
is  ever  actively  engaged  with  one  subject  or  another,  all 
at  once  to  place  himself  in  the  circumstances  of  an  aged 
and  long  afflicted  Christian.  Yet  this  I  must  try  to  do, 
ere  I  can  write  in  a  strain  of  sympathy  with  your  feelino-s. 
But  though  I  cannot  enter  as  I  could  wish,  into  your 
peculiar  circumstances,  or  write  with  all  that  closeness  of 
sympathy,  or  administer  that  experimental  consolation, 
which  the  person  could,  who  had  seen  as  much  of  life's 


156  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

cliequered  scene,  and  passed  througli  like  trials  with  your- 
self; yet  there  are  always  some  subjects  on  which  Chris- 
tians feel  a  common  interest,  however  difterent  their 
circumstances,  and  however  varied  their  experience.  The 
great  objects  of  our  salvation  are  alike  interesting  in  youth 
and  in  age ;  in  joy  and  in  sorrow  ;  in  health  and  in  sick- 
ness ;  in  seasons  of  prosperity,  and  in  the  day  of  trial. 
What  was  said  by  a  learned  heathen  of  his  favourite 
studies,  (most  beautifully,  but  most  extravagantly  in  his 
application  of  it,)  might  with  great  propriety  be  used  by 
the  Christian  in  speaking  of  the  truths  of  the  Bible : 
"  These  studies  cherish  youth,  soothe  old  age,  adorn  pros- 
perity, and  form  in  adversity  a  refuge  and  consolation ; 
at  home  they  are  our  delight,  abroad  they  are  no  incum- 
brance ;  they  are  with  us  by  night,  they  journey  with  us, 
and  in  our  country  retreat  they  are  with  us  still."  What 
a  pity  that  worldly  men  should  be  so  enthusiastic  in  the 
praise  of  their  favourite  pursuits,  while  Christians  are  so 
dull  and  careless  about  objects  so  much  more  highly  de- 
serving of  their  love.  How  few  Christians  are  there  who 
could  heartily,  and  from  their  own  experience,  apply  to 
the  joys  and  the  consolations  of  the  gospel,  those  ardent 
expressions  of  delight  which  a  heathen  philosopher  employs 
in  regard  to  merely  human  learning.  So  true  is  it,  that 
the  children  of  this  world  are  wiser  in  their  generation, 
than  the  children  of  light. 

"  I  should  suppose,  that  to  an  aged  Christian  who  cannot 
look  for  much  longer  continuance  in  the  church  below,  the 
state  and  employment  of  the  church  above  must  be  pecu- 
liarly interesting.  To  all  Christians  it  must  be  a  subject 
of  the  most  delightful  contemplation  ;  but  more  especially 
to  those  who  hope  to  be  very  soon  released  from  the  prison- 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    UHQTHAET.  157 

house  of  the  body.  It  was  the  joy  set  before  him,  which 
bore  our  Lord  through  the  ignominy,  and  the  torture  of 
his  sufferings.  And  surely  the  prospect  of  such  a  glory 
as  is  set  before  his  disciples,  may  well  encourage  and  sup- 
port them  through  every  difficulty  and  every  trial.  It 
may  well  reconcile  us  to  suffer  with  Christ,  when  we  know 
that  this  is  the  sure  pledge  of  our  reigning  with  him. 
They  Avho  have  been  deepest  in  suffering  for  Christ's  sake, 
shall  be  highest  in  glory.  They  who  would  sit  on  his 
right  hand,  when  he  is  seated  on  his  throne,  must  drink 
of  the  bitter  cup  which  he  drank  of,  and  must  be  baptized 
with  the  bloody  baptism  with  which  he  was  baptized. 
The  first  disciples  knew  this,  and  therefore  they  were  not 
only  patient,  but  joyful  in  suffering,  and  were  even  apt  to 
run  into  the  extreme  of  courting  danger.  They  did  not 
count  the  tribulations  of  the  gospel  as  trials,  to  which  it 
was  a  painful  duty  to  submit ;  but  they  regarded  them  as 
honours,  which  it  was  no  ordinary  favour  to  win.  '  For 
unto  you  it  is  given,  in  the  behalf  of  Christ,  (says  the 
apostle  Paul,)  not  only  to  believe  on  him,  but  also  (higher 
privilege  still !)  to  suffer  for  his  sake.'  It  is  labour  and 
fatigue  which  give  to  rest  and  repose  their  great  value.  In- 
deed we  have  no  idea  of  rest  where  there  has  been  no 
previous  weariness  or  fatigue,  and  the  harder  the  toil,  or 
the  more  distressing  the  uneasiness,  the  sweeter  is  the  rest 
w^hich  succeeds  it.  I  have  had  little  or  no  experience  of 
bodily  suffering,  but  I  find  it  is  these  views  of  the  glory 
that  shall  follow,  which  bear  me  up  under  the  prospect 
of  trials  which  sometimes  burden  me  with  not  a  little 
mental  distress ;  and  I  trust  that  these  hurried  remarks 
may  not  be  altogether  useless,  in  administering  some  little 
consolation  to  you  under  your  lengthened  afflictions.  May 
14 


158  MEMOIR    or    JOHN    URQUHAET. 

the  Lord  the  Shepherd  of  Israel  guide  yon ;  and  may  hig 
rod  and  his  staiF  be  your  comfort,  when  you  tread  the  dark 
valley !     Do  not  forget  sometimes  to  pray  for 

"  Your  very  affectionate  brother  in  the  Lord  Jesus." 

As  the  end  of  his  last  session  at  college  drew  nigh,  he 
became  increasingly  anxious  abo\it  his  future  sphere  of 
labour.  He  addressed  two  letters  to  Dr.  Morrison,  with 
which  the  Doctor  was  much  pleased,  as  appears  from  his 
answers ;  and  in  the  following  letter  to  myself,  he  dis- 
closes all  his  mind,  and  intimates  his  final  decision. 

"St.  Andrew's,  March  10,  1826. 
"  My  vert  Dear  Sir  —  The  end  of  our  session  is  now 
at  hand,  and  I  begin  to  feel  it  necessary  to  determine  on 
some  settled  plan  to  proceed  upon  afterwards.  Mr.  Adam 
and  myself  have  made  the  subject  of  missions  a  matter 
of  daily  consideration  this  session  ;  and  after  deliberately 
viewing  all  sides  of  the  question,  and  candidly  compar- 
ing the  claims  of  our  home  population  and  the  heathen 
world,  and  earnestly  seeking  for  direction  from  Him  who  has 
promised  to  be  the  guide  of  his  people,  even  unto  death,  I 
have  come  to  the  final  resolution  of  devoting  myself  to 
the  service  of  God  among  the  heathen.  I  have  made  the 
history  of  missions,  and  the  biography  of  missionaries, 
a  part  of  my  daily  study,  for  some  time,  and  have  perused, 
I  think,  nearly  all  the  principal  works  on  the  subject. 
And  I  am  glad  I  have  done  so ;  for  it  has  given  me  much 
sounder  views  of  the  matter  than  I  had  before.  There  is 
much  in  the  distance  of  a  foreign  land,  and  the  mystery 
that  hangs  over  the  operations  that  are  carried  on  there ; 
and,  above  all,  in  the  high  and  often  extravagant  eulogi- 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART.  159 

Tims  which  the  eloquent  advocates  of  missions  have  caused 
us  to  associate  with  the  very  name  of  Missionary  ;  there 
is  much,  I  say,  in  all  this,  to  produce  a  false  impression 
on  the  mind  of  a  young  disciple.  I  remember,  when  I 
first  united  myself  to  a  Christian  society,  of  being  much 
disappointed  to  find,  that  Christians,  though  vastly  differ- 
ent from  the  world,  were  still  weak  and  imperfect  crea- 
tures. And  so,  I  had  been  accustomed  to  form  such  a 
lofty  conception  of  the  character  of  a  missionary,  that  I 
have  been  almost  disappointed  to  find,  from  their  history, 
that  they  are  men  of  like  infirmities  with  other  Christians ; 
and  certainly,  I  have  been  a  good  deal  depressed  to  find 
that  many  of  them  were  far  from  possessing  that  saintly 
devotedness,  and  apostolic  zeal,  which  my  boyish  imagina- 
tion had  attributed  to  them.  Indeed,  I  have  to  fear,  that 
there  was  much  of  romance  in  my  first  thoughts  of  becom- 
ing a  missionary ;  a  good  deal  of  what  Mr.  Malan,  in  wri- 
ting to  my  friend  Mr.  Adam  on  the  subject,  calls  '  un. 
trait  de  I'imagination.'  But  I  trust  the  detail  of  facts, 
which  have  come  under  my  review,  has  done  much  to 
dissipate  this ;  and  has  at  the  same  time,  impressed  me 
more  deeply  than  ever  with  the  duty  of  engaging  in  this 
department  of  the  ministerial  work.  The  brilliant  colour- 
ing of  romance  has  faded  from  the  picture ;  but  its  out- 
lines seem  even  more  strongly  and  broadly  marked  than 
before.  I  have  not  been  discouraged  by  the  suffer- 
ings of  the  missionary  life ;  they  are  borne  for  Christ's 
sake.  And  happy,  indeed,  are  they,  to  whom  it  has  been 
given  on  behalf  of  Christ,  not  only  to  believe  on  him,  hut 
also  to  suffer  for  his  sake.  Neither  do  I  feel  discouraged 
by  the  want  of  success ;  the  expectations  of  Christians  on 
this  subject  appear  to  me  very  unreasonable.     They  put 


160  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

forth  their  little  finger  to  remove  a  mountain,  and  are 
astonished  that  God  does  not  work  a  miracle  to  reward 
their  great  exertions.  But  the  promise  of  God  stands 
sure  ;  and  though  it  tarry,  we  will  wait  for  it.  One  thing, 
I  confess,  has  distressed  me  not  a  little ;  it  is  the  prospect 
of  those  temptations,  before  which  so  many  have  fallen ; 
but  I  know  it  is  wrong  to  fear.  The  God  that  enables  us 
to  stand  in  the  midst  of  smaller  temptations  is  able,  and 
has  promised  to  be  with  us  at  all  times.  I  see  that 
unwavering  faith  in  God's  promises,  and  closeness  of  com- 
munion wdth  him,  are  among  the  main  requisites  in  the 
character  of  a  missionary.  And  in  these  I  feel  that  I  am 
very  deficient.  0,  pray  for  me,  my  dear  friend,  that  he 
who  has  wrought  in  me  to  will,  may  also  fit  me  to  per- 
form it. 

"  I  have  had  a  letter  from  Dr.  Morrison.  He  recom- 
mends an  early  application  to  the  Society,  and  even  talks 
of  a  very  early  entrance  on  the  work  itself.  I  trust  I  am 
ready  to  engage  whenever  the  Lord  will,  but  I  think  it  is 
not  a  recoil  from  trial,  which  makes  me  suppose  that  pru- 
dence might  demand  my  still  remaining  a  considerable 
time  in  this  country.  I  am  not  yet  eighteen.  After  this 
session  I  shall  have  nothing  to  prevent  my  engagement  in 
direct  preparation  for  missionary  work.  I  should  like  to 
know  the  state  of  the  Society's  arrangements.  I  was 
offered  a  very  good  situation  some  time  ago,  but  was  afraid 
it  might,  in  some  degree,  interfere  with  my  preparations 
for  the  work  to  which  I  am  devoted.  I  have  taught  Dr. 
Chalmers's  Sabbath-school  for  him  this  winter,  as  he  is 
engaged  otherwise.  This  has  given  me  the  opportunity 
of  very  familiar  intercourse  with  the  Doctor.  I  sup  with 
him  on  Sunday  evenings,  and  have  a  good  deal  of  conver- 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    UKQUHART.  161 

sation  with  him  on  the  subject  of  missions,  &c.  He  tries 
to  persuade  me  to  stay  in  this  country,  but  I  do  not  think 
his  arguments  powerful.  I  have  refused  to  accept  of  any 
situation  that  may  occur  to  him  at  present,  in  the  pros- 
pect of  soon  offering  myself  to  the  Society.  On  this 
account  I  should  like  you  to  write  soon,  if  possible, 
whether  the  Society  can  receive  applications  this  summer." 

As  this  letter  contains  his  decision  respecting  the  im- 
portant work  which  had  so  long  occupied  his  attention, 
perhaps  this  is  the  proper  place  to  introduce  his  conclud- 
ing address  to  the  St.  Andrew's  Missionary  Society,  which 
was  in  a  great  measure  the  fruit  of  his  own  exertions,  and 
which  he  had  cherished  with  the  fondest  affection.  That 
address,  also,  containing  his  matured  views,  will  afford  me 
the  opportunity  of  making  a  few  remarks  on  the  subject, 
and  on  the  opposition  of  his  friends  to  his  personal  engage- 
ment in  the  work.* 

Very  far  be  it  from  me  to  write  a  single  sentence  that 
might  diminish  the  force,  or  detract  from  the  earnestness 
of  this  energetic  and  eloquent  appeal. 

On  the  Society  to  which  it  was  read,  it  produced  a  most 
powerful  effect ;  and  on  their  minutes,  they  have  made  the 
following  entry  of  that  impression :  "  Never  probably,  in 
any  association,  had  such  an  address,  on  such  a  subject, 
been  before  delivered.  To  say  that  it  was  most  eloquent, 
most  solemn,  most  affecting,  the  production  of  a  mind  of 
mighty  grasp  ;  sedulously  and  continuously  directed  to  one 
single  object  of  mightiest  import,  may  convey  to  those 
who  heard  it  not,  some  idea  of  the  impression  produced 
by  it." 

*  See  Appendix  K. 
14* 


162  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    UEQUHAET. 

I  trust  it  is  destined  to  touch  the  hearts  of  many,  whom 
the  living  voice  of  the  author  never  could  have  reached. 
I  envy  not  the  understanding,  or  the  feelings  of  that  indi- 
vidual, who  can  read  the  address,  without  experiencing  a 
higher  emotion  than  that  of  admiration.  It  is  impossible 
not  to  be  struck  with  the  deep  earnestness  of  the  advocate, 
the  cogency  of  his  reasoning,  and  the  affection  and  sim- 
plicity of  his  manner.  Here  are  ""  thoughts  that  breathe, 
and  words  that  burn,"  on  a  subject  the  most  momentous 
which  can  engage  the  mind  of  man. 

Were  there  any  danger  of  this  address  producing  a 
general  rush  into  the  missionary  service,  and  a  desertion 
of  the  service  at  home,  it  might  be  necessary  to  enter 
some  exceptions  to  certain  parts  of  it.  But  as  long  as  the 
love  of  home  and  of  ease,  and  various  other  considerations 
operate,  there  is  little  probability  that  we  shall  have  to 
check  the  fervour  of  missionary  zeal.  Perhaps  my  young 
friend,  however,  a  little  exaggerates  the  low  state  of  this 
principle,  and  represents  the  deficiency  of  missionary  can- 
didates as  greater  than  it  really  is.  What  is  chiefly  to  be 
regretted,  is,  the  paucity  of  well  educated  and  gifted  men 
for  this  work.  By  far  the  greater  number  of  persons  who 
volunteer  their  services,  are  young  men  of  Christian  prin- 
ciple, but  whose  early  advantages  have  been  comparatively 
few.  In  this  respect,  there  has,  indeed,  been  some  pro- 
gress of  late,  but  still  there  is  much  room  for  improve- 
ment. 

Without  throwing  any  reflection  on  persons  of  humble 
life,  and  limited  education,  who  wish  to  devote  themselves 
to  this  work,  I  do  conceive,  that  in  many  instances,  the 
failure  which  has  taken  place  in  our  foreign  operations, 
may  partly,  at  least,  be  traced  to  this  soiu'ce.     When  a 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART.  163 

young  person,  under  examination,  tells  us,  that  the  extent 
of  his  reading  has  been  the  Bible,  Boston's  Fourfold  State, 
Bunyan's  Pilgrim's  Progress,  and  the  Evangelical  Maga- 
zine ;  and  that,  from  these  and  similar  sources,  with  at- 
tending missionary  services,  he  has  derived  all  his  know- 
ledge of  the  work  in  which  he  proposes  to  engage,  it  is 
obviously  impossible,  whatever  dependence  may  be  placed 
on  his  sincerity,  to  attach  any  confidence  to  his  knowledge 
of  the  nature  of  the  work. 

Such  a  person  is  perhaps  accepted ;  and,  after  passing 
through  a  hurried  and  imperfect  education,  is  sent  forth 
to  some  important  and  difficult  situation  abroad.  There 
difficulties  and  trials  assail  him,  for  which  he  is  altogether 
unprepared,  and,  after  floundering  and  blundering  a  few 
years,  becomes  either  dispirited  or  ensnared,  and  effects 
nothing.  Perhaps  he  has  been  suddenly  elevated  to  a 
class  of  society,  in  which  he  had  not  been  accustomed  to 
mingle,  and  from  that  circumstance,  is  exposed  to  danger, 
which  would  scarcely  affect  persons  of  another  description. 
It  ought  not  to  be  concealed,  that  missionaries  labouring 
in  certain  situations  among  the  heathen,  enjoy  advantages 
which  are  not  possessed  by  their  brethren  in  the  ministry 
at  home  ;  and  this  circumstance,  if  caution  is  not  exercised, 
is  in  danger  of  producing  great  injury  to  our  cause. 

As  so  much  reference  is  made  by  John  in  his  letters,  to 
the  opposition  of  his  friends  and  others,  to  his  desire  to 
devote  himself  to  the  work  of  Christ  among  the  heathen, 
I  feel  called  upon  to  explain  the  nature  and  reasons  of 
this  opposition,  which,  I  apprehend,  he  never  properly 
understood.  Not  having  opposed  him  myself,  after  I  saw 
his  mind  was  fully  made  up,  my  explanation  may  be  received 
with  the  greater  confidence.     As  the  opposition  was  not 


164  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

from  worldly  people,  or  from  religious  persons  under  the 
influence  of  worldly  motives,  the  explanation  is  the  more 
necessary. 

I  believe  then,  that  opposition  arose  entirely  from  two 
causes,  the  state  of  his  constitution,  and  the  character  of 
his  mind.  All  who  knew  him,  feared  that  his  bodily  con- 
stitution would  never  bear  the  effects  of  a  warm  climate. 
Though  liable  to  no  particular  complaint,  he  was  delicate 
from  a  child,  and  incapable  of  enduring  much  fatigue  or 
exposure.  Of  this  his  parents  were  most  sensible,  and 
hence  their  decided  reluctance  to  allow  him  to  go  abroad. 
The  event  proved  that  their  fears  were  too  well  grounded. 

Other  friends  connected  his  mental  with  his  bodily  con- 
stitution, and  feared  the  labours  of  a  missionary  life  would 
soon  prove  fatal.  He  possessed  a  highly  morbid  sensi- 
bility, which  rendered  him  liable  to  exquisite  sufferings, 
from  circumstances  that  would  not  have  greatly  affected 
more  robust  and  hardy  individuals.  He  was  formed  for 
society,  and  was  dependent  upon  it  in  a  great  degree,  for 
his  support  and  capability  of  acting.  This  is  most  strongly 
marked  in  many  of  his  letters.  In  connection  with  this, 
the  kind  of  talent  which  he  possessed  would  have  fitted 
him  for  eminent  usefulness  in  this  country;  while  his 
exquisite  taste,  and  various  other  qualifications,  vfould 
have  been  to  a  considerable  extent,  lost  in  a  foreign  coun- 
try. I  am  not  disposed  to  underrate  the  talents  neces- 
sary for  foreign  missionary  labour,  or  to  exaggerate  the 
importance  of  our  own,  yet  I  freely  acknowledge  that  I 
am  one  of  the  number,  who  would  have  rejoiced  that  John 
Urquhart  had  laboured  at  home,  rather  than  have  gone 
abroad. 

It  was  too  delicate  a  matter  to  press  these  reasons  upou 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART.  165 

him;  but  I  am  sure  thej  are  the  only  reasons  wMch 
weighed  with  Dr.  Chalmers,  Mr.  Ewing,  and  various  other 
individuals,  from  whom  he  considered  himself  as  experi- 
encing more  opposition  than  he  had  been  prepared  to 
expect.  It  is  every  day  becoming  more  evident  that  men 
of  a  high  order  of  talent  in  the  Christian  ministry,  are 
required  in  this  country.  The  successful  prosecution  of 
the  work  abroad,  renders  this  no  less  necessary,  than  the 
nature  of  the  work  at  home ;  and  it  would  augur  ill  for 
the  cause  of  Christ  generally,  were  such  gifted  individuals 
all  disposed  to  forsake  our  own  shores.  Of  this,  however, 
there  is  no  great  reason  to  entertain  much  fear. 

I  cannot,  perhaps,  better  conclude  the  account  of  his 
progress  during  this  last  session  at  St.  Andrew's,  than  by 
giving  at  length  several  documents  with  which  I  have  been 
furnished.  It  is  always  more  satisfactory  to  report  the 
evidence  of  eye  and  intimate  w^itnesses,  than  to  indulge 
in  general  and  hypothetical  reasonings ;  and  I  have  found 
it  a  very  peculiar  advantage  in  conducting  this  narrative, 
that  in  almost  every  step  of  the  religious  life  of  this  inter- 
esting youth,  I  can  adduce  the  evidence  of  those  who  were 
so  closely  connected  with  him,  that  they  had  the  best 
opportunities  of  judging  ;  and  who  were,  at  the  same  time, 
well  qualified  to  form  a  judgment  of  him.  His  friend,  Mr. 
Duff,  writes  as  follows  :  — 

"  In  the  session  of  1825  -  6  his  growth  in  spirituality 
was  quite  extraordinary.  Literature  and  science  now 
dwindled,  in  his  view,  into  comparative  insignificancy; 
they  no  longer  occupied  the  greatest  portion  of  his  time ; 
they  no  longer  possessed  exclusive  charms ;  it  was  suffi- 
cient for  casting  them  into  the  shade,  that  of  them  it  might 
be  asserted,  as  of  the  earthquake  and  the  fire  of  Elijah, 


166  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHAET. 

*tliat  the  Lord  was  not  tli-ere.'  He,  no  doubt,  this  session, 
gained  the  third  prize  in  the  Natural  Philosophy  class, 
which  from  the  highly  scientific  nature  of  the  course,  is 
generally  reckoned  no  ordinary  attainment ;  but  this  he 
owed  entirely  to  his  real  superiority  of  intellect,  as  it  was 
gained  without  labour,  without  efi"ort,  without  much  pre- 
paration. Indeed  he  could  not  bear  the  thought  of  spend- 
ing much  time  on  w^hat  appeared  to  him  to  be  but  of 
secondary  importance.  Christianity  now  became  the 
constant  subject  of  his  meditation,  the  cause  of  Christ  the 
constant  theme  of  his  discourse.  How  to  be  useful  to  the 
souls  of  men,  how  to  promote  the  glory  and  honour  of  his 
Redeemer,  attracted  all  his  thoughts,  and  formed  the 
object  of  his  fondest  desires.  He  seemed  full  of  the  spirit 
of  the  reformer,  proclaiming,  in  all  his  words  and  actions, 
'None  but  Christ;  none  but  Christ.'  " 

Besides  the  prize  in  the  Natural  Philosophy  class, 
referred  to  by  Mr.  Duff,  he  gained  a  prize  in  the  Hebrew, 
Chaldaic,  and  Syriac  class,  "as  a  testimony,"  says  Pro- 
fessor Baird,  "  of  my  high  approbation  of  his  correct  and 
exemplary  conduct,  and  of  the  many  proofs  of  excellent 
talents  and  distinguished  proficiency  which  he  exhibited 
while  attending  that  class." 

I  should  also  mention  that  he  attended  the  Natural 
History  class  during  the  session  ;  and,  from  some  drawings 
and  papers  which  remain,  it  is  evident  that  he  had  made 
considerable  progress  in  botany.  With  mineralogy  and 
chemistry  he  was  also  well  acquainted.  The  testimony  he 
received  from  the  Lecturer  on  Natural  History  is  entitled 
to  a  place  :  — 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHAET.  167 

"  St.  Axdrett's,  April  29,  1826. 
"  Mr.  John  Urquhart  was  enrolled  a  student  of  Natural 
History  in  the  United  Colleges  of  St.  Salv.  and  St.  Leon, 
at  the  commencement  of  the  session  now  closed  ;  and,  from 
the  unremitted  regularity  of  his  attendance,  the  interest 
he  took  in  the  course,  and  the  intelligence  of  his  conver- 
sations on  the  subject,  I  have  every  reason  to  believe,  that, 
had  there  been  public  examinations,  he  would  have  been  as 
eminent  in  the  Natural  History  as  he  has  been  in  every 
class  of  the  United  College. 

"John  Macvicar, 
"  Col.  Lect.  Nat.  His." 

From  another  of  his  fellow-students,  and  indeed  his  fel- 
low-lodger, Mr.  Alexander,  I  received  the  following  very 
ample  view  of  his  character  and  talents.  The  writer,  I 
have  reason  to  know,  is  well  entitled  to  pronounce  his 
judgment ;  and  all  that  he  says,  is  at  once  most  coi'rect, 
as  well  as  judicious  :  — 

"  My  acquaintance  with  John  Urquhart  commenced  in 
the  year  1823 ;  but  it  was  not  till  the  summer  of  1825  that 
we  became  very  intimate.  When  I  knew  him  first  he 
appeared  to  possess  a  great  flow  of  spirits,  which  showed 
itself  more  in  a  perpetual  cheerfulness  and  hilarity,  than 
in  any  fondness  for  boisterous  mirth.  This  he  seemed 
still  to  retain,  as  far  as  I  could  judge,  as  long  as  I  had  an 
opportunity  of  conversing  with  him.  Occasionally,  how- 
ever, this  gave  way  to  excessive  depression,  with  which 
sometimes  he  was  dreadfully  distressed.  During  these 
seasons  he  was  often  visited  with  thoughts,  which  to  his 
mind,  were  peculiarly  discouraging  and  terrific ;  such  as 


168  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

doubts  of  liis  being  a  cliild  of  God,  a  fear  of  losing  Ms 
senses  ;  and  many  other  equally  unpleasant  ideas.  I  have 
not  the  least  doubt,  however,  that  all  these  arose  from 
physical  causes,  and  were  prognostications  of  that  disease 
by  which  his  years  on  earth  were  brought  to  a  close. 

"In  November,  1825,  it  was  my  lot  to  come  to  St. 
Andrew's  to  study;  and  I  had  the  happiness  to  find 
myself  lodged  under  the  same  roof  with  John  Urquhart. 
Many  a  happy  and  delightful  hour  have  we  spent  together 
in  this  room  wherein  I  now  sit,  —  the  memory  of  which  is 
still  upon  my  mind,  and  it  is  sweet.  Never  has  it  been 
my  lot  to  meet  with  one  of  so  sweet  and  amiable  a  dispo- 
sition. Contented  with  whatever  he  received,  I  never 
heard  him  utter  an  angry  word,  or  saw  him  wear  a  menace 
on  his  placid  countenance.  He  was  regular  in  all  his 
habits,  kind  and  affectionate  in  all  his  conversation  with 
those  around  him ;  and  the  estimation  in  which  he  was 
held  by  those  with  whom  he  lodged,  was  best  testified  by 
the  heartfelt  grief  and  honest  tears  with  which  they 
received  the  intelligence  of  his  death.  His  landlady,  for 
some  weeks  after,  wore  mourning,  in  token  of  respect  for 
his  character  and  memory. 

"  His  piety  was  simple  and  unaffected  ;  and,  at  the  same 
time,  truly  evangelical.  Deeply  sensible  of  his  own  un- 
worthiness  and  guilt,  he  was  humbled  before  God,  and 
was  enabled  to  lay  hold  upon  him  who  is  the  Saviour  from 
all  sin.  Convinced  by  his  numerous  short-comings  that 
he  had  not  yet  arrived  at  perfection,  he  was  taught  to 
cling  closer  to  his  Redeemer,  and  trust  in  him  alone.  He 
was  distinguished  by  a  godly,  jealous  care  over  his  own 
heart ;  and  was  watchful  against  temptation.  Many  a 
time  did  he  deny  himself  the  indulgence  of  pleasures  of 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART.  169 

wliicli  he  was  naturally  fond,  just  because  tlioy  might 
stand  in  the  way  of  his  soul's  good.  In  prayer,  he  pecu- 
liarly excelled.  How  earnest  were  his  supplications,  and 
how  experimental  his  confessions,  every  one  who  has  ever 
heard  him  can  testify.  His  whole  soul  seemed  to  be 
engaged  ;  and  the  energy  of  his  expression  sufficiently 
testified,  that  what  he  asked,  was  what  he  indeed  knew 
and  felt  himself  to  want. 

"  His  zeal  for  doing  good  was  very  great.  You,  sir, 
already  know  with  what  eagerness  he  sacrificed  every 
prospect  of  worldly  advantage  for  the  arduous  and  labor- 
ious office  of  a  foreign  missionary.  This  was  the  darling 
desire  of  his  heart ;  and,  for  the  attainment  of  this  object, 
he  earnestly  and  unceasingly  prayed.  Every  work  upon 
Christian  missions,  every  article  of  missionary  intelligence, 
he  anxiously  and  eagerly  perused.  He  had  pondered  well 
all  that  he  might  expect  to  endure ;  he  had  looked  upon 
all  the  dangers  and  difficulties  which  lay  before  him  ;  but 
his  desire  was  not  weakened,  and  his  confidence  in  the 
promises  of  Jehovah  was  unshaken.  So  firm  was  his 
determination,  that  he  actually  commenced  the  study  of 
Chinese,  and  spent  many  an  hour  of  hard  study  on  its 
recondite  symbols.  I  do  not  know  whether  he  continued 
to  prosecute  this  study  :  I  rather  think  not ;  as  he  seemed 
latterly  to  have  directed  his  attention  more  to  India  than 
to  China. 

"  But  he  did  not  content  himself  with  a  mere  desire  to 
do  good,  and  with  forming  plans  for  future  usefulness  ;  he 
was  also  busy  in  doing  what  he  could  for  those  around 
him.  He  was  much  occupied  with  Sabbath-schools,  and 
took  great  delight  in  communicating  instruction  to  the 
children  by  whom  they  were  attended.  It  was  his  practice 
15 


170  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

to  make  them  read  a  chapter,  which  he  exj^lained  to  them, 
and  questioned  them  from  it.  All  these  questions  he 
previously  wrote  down  and  studied,  in  order  that  they  might 
be  as  simple  and  easy  as  possible.  Indeed,  he  possessed 
a  peculiar  talent  for  speaking  to  children,  and  never 
failed  to  secure  their  attention.  The  simplicity  of  his 
addresses  to  them  may  be  evinced  by  the  surprise  which 
some  of  his  youthful  hearers  once  expressed,  that  they 
should  have  been  able  to  recollect  all  that  he  had  said. 
Nor  was  he  contented  with  merely  speaking  to  the  children 
on  the  Sabbath ;  he  made  it  a  point  to  visit  them  regu- 
larly in  their  own  houses,  and  to  converse  with  them  and 
their  relations  there.  By  these  means  he  secured  the 
confidence  of  the  parents  as  well  as  the  affection  of  the 
children,  and  was  often  enabled  to  speak  a  word  in  season 
to  those  with  whom  he  met. 

"  To  visit  the  sick  and  the  infirm  was  another  favourite 
occupation  of  my  dear  brother ;  to  every  call  of  this  kind 
he  was  ready ;  and  many  a  time  have  I  known  him  leave 
his  studies  to  visit  the  bed-side  of  some  humble  sufferer. 
On  these  occasions  his  conversation  was  always  of  a  spi- 
ritual nature,  and  it  was  always  his  anxious  endeavour  to 
direct  the  mind  of  the  sufferer  away  from  every  earthly 
confidence,  unto  the  '  Lamb  of  God,  who  taketh  away  the 
sins  of  the  world.'  Sometimes  in  these  visits  of  love,  he 
was  kindly  received,  sometimes  he  had  to  endure  the  sus- 
picion of  having  some  sinister  motive  by  which  he  was 
actuated ;  sometimes  he  met  with  intelligence  and  atten- 
tion, and  sometimes  with  ignorance  and  carelessness  ;  but 
whatever  reception  he  met  with,  he  never  failed  to  repeat 
his  visits :  so  strong  was  his  desire  for  the  welfare  and 
salvation  of  his  fellow  men. 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART.  171 

"  But,  while  he  was  thus  attentive  to  the  duties  of  reli- 
gion, he  was  not  negligent  of  those  studies  for  which  he 
had  come  to  this  place.  On  the  contrary,  I  believe  there 
were  few  of  his  cotemporaries  who  studied  more  closely 
than  he  did :  certainly,  none  more  successfully.  In  only 
one  class  did  he  fail  to  distinguish  himself ;  viz.  the  Logic 
Class ;  but  this  I  am  inclined  to  impute,  not  so  much  to 
any  want  of  ability,  as  to  a  distaste  for  the  dull  and  barren 
speculations  with  which  the  Professor  of  Logic  treats  his 
students.  His  splendid  appearance  in  the  Ethical  Class, 
the  year  following,  proved  what  he  could  do  ;  and  it  was 
certainly  no  small  achievement  to  stand  first  in  two  sepa- 
rate competitions  in  a  class,  perhaps  the  most  numerous 
and  able  that  ever  attended  the  prelections  of  a  St.  An- 
drew's Ethical  Professor.  As  far  as  I  could  judge,  his 
talent  lay  chiefly  in  a  facility  of  acquiring  languages  ; 
and  in  the  elegance,  both  of  thought  and  expression,  by 
w^hich  his  compositions  were  distinguished.  There  were 
several  of  his  cotemporaries  who  took  a  much  firmer  and 
profounder  grasp  of  a  subject ;  but  there  were  few,  if  any, 
who  could  think  so  clearly,  and  express  themselves  with 
such  perspicuity  and  elegance,  as  he  was  able  to  do.  Con- 
trary to  what  may  be  inferred  from  the  ease  and  beauty 
of  his  style,  his  habits  of  composition  were  very  labori- 
ous. Beginning  from  a  rude  and  imperfect  sketch,  he, 
by  degrees,  filled  up  the  parts  and  extended  the  outline. 
He  scarcely  wrote  a  sentence  which  did  not  cost  him  some 
labour ;  and,  consequently,  composition  was  to  him  a  most 
fatiguing,  and,  I  may  say,  irksome  exercise.  He  always 
set  himself  to  it  with  reluctance ;  and,  indeed,  it  was  only 
by  the  calls  of  duty  that  he  could  be  prevailed  upon  to 
take  up  his  pen  on  any  subject.     I  have  not  seen  all  his 


172  MEMOIR    OP    JOHN    URQUHART. 

compositions ;  but  the  best  that  I  have  seen  are  a  series 
of  papers  on  the  St.  Andrew's  Missionary  Society,  printed 
in  the  '  St.  Andrew's  University  Magazine,'  a  little  work 
conducted  by  some  of  his  friends  during  last  session ;  and 
an  essay  on  the  duty  of  personally  engaging  in  the  work 
of  missions,  read  before  the  St.  Andrew's  Students'  Mis- 
sionary Society ;  of  which  he  was  always  a  distinguished 
friend  and  supporter." 

These  testimonies  are  peculiarly  pleasant  and  satisfac- 
tory, not  only  as  the  expressions  of  Christian  and  personal 
friendship,  but  as  bearing  evidence  to  his  holy  and  exem- 
plary conduct.  In  him,  religion  did  not  appear  as  a  pro- 
fession,—  it  dwelt  in  him,  as  life, — it  attached  itself  to 
him  as  clothing.  It  was  not  a  holiday,  but  an  every  day 
garb,  and  was  worn  with  the  ease  of  a  natural  habit,  — 
not  the  stiffness  of  an  assumed  or  foreign  dress.  There 
is  one  testimony  more  which  I  cannot  withhold,  though 
the  name  of  the  respected  individual  who  bears  it,  has 
been  already  repeatedly  introduced.  No  one  could  know 
him  better  than  Dr.  Chalmers ;  and  no  man  was  more 
capable  of  estimating  his  intellectual  and  spiritual  attain- 
ments. The  following  document  presented  to  John,  on 
leaving  the  University,  does  great  honour  to  the  heart  of 
the  Professor,  as  well  as  to  the  talents  of  the  student. 

"  St.  Andrew's,  April  28,  1826. 
"  These  are  to  certify,  that  Mr.  John  Urquhart  was 
enrolled  a  regular  student  of  Moral  Philosophy  in  the  Uni- 
ted College  of  St.  Andrew's,  for_  the  session  of  1825-6 ; 
that  he  distinguished  himself  highly  by  his  appearances 
wiiile  under  examination,  and  was  far  the  most  eminent 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART.  173 

of  his  class,  for  the  beauty  and  eloquence  of  his  written 
compositions ;  that  he  possesses  a  very  uncommon  degree 
of  taste  and  talent  for  the  disquisitions  of  ethical  science ; 
and  that  altogether,  he,  as  the  fruit  of  great  diligence, 
united  with  great  powers,  achieved  the  credit  of  being  a 
first  rate  proficient  in  the  lessons  and  doctrines  of  the 
course. 

"  Thomas  Chalmers." 

"  Mr.  Urquhart  gained  two  prizes  in  this  class ;  one, 
the  first  prize,  for  an  essay  on  '  The  Mutual  Influences 
and  Affinities,  which  obtain  between  the  Moral  and  Eco- 
nomic Condition  of  Society.'  Another,  the  first  prize  for 
essays  read  in  the  class  during  the  session." 

Perhaps,  to  some  readers,  it  may  occur  to  ask,  did  the 
individual  who  was  so  successful  in  all  his  academical  pur- 
suits, take  a  degree  at  St.  Andrew's  ?  It  appears  he  did 
not.  If  this  should  excite  surprise,  I  can  say  in  explana- 
tion, that  multitudes  of  the  best  scholars  at  the  Scottish 
Universities  never  trouble  themselves  about  the  matter; 
and  many  of  those  who  take  the  degree  of  A.  M.,  never 
use  it.  But  as  I  know  John  was  recommended  to  take  a 
degree,  I  can  account  for  his  neglecting  to  follow  the 
advice,  only  by  referring  his  conduct  to  that  instinctive 
and  powerful  aversion  to  human  praise,  by  which  he  was 
remarkably  distinguished.  One  of  his  fellow  students, 
who  knew  him  well,  and  whose  testimony  I  have  not  yet 
quoted,  calls  my  attention  to  this  feature  of  his  character ; 
what  he  calls,  "  his  total  indifierence  to  human  approba- 
tion. The  loudest  applause  of  his  instructors  and  fellow 
students  did  not  seem  to  tell  on  his  feelings  at  all.  Had 
15* 


174  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

he  been  susceptible  of  pleasure  from  any  distinction  con- 
ferred, it  must  have  shown,  when  he  was  singled  out,  and 
eminently  honoured,  by  such  a  man  as  Dr.  Chalmers. 
Yet,  even  in  this  case,  he  w^as  unmoved.  His  mind  hardly 
appeared  to  have  a  thought  for  anything,  save  the  good 
opinion  of  Him  who  trieth  the  reins  and  hearts  of  the 
children  of  men.  He  arrived  at  this  heavenly-minded- 
ness,  not,  I  am  sure,  by  any  process  of  acute  investigation 
into  the  philosophy  of  our  feelings,  but  simply  by  ever 
exercising  his  affections  on  those  things  which  are  unseen 
and  eternal.  His  indifference  was  not  the  misanthropic 
stoicism  of  the  philosopher,  but  the  perfect  liberty  of  the 
Christian." 

Whether  I  am  correct,  or  not,  in  assigning  this  reason 
for  his  declining  to  take  his  degree  at  the  University,  the 
reader,  I  am  sure,  will  rejoice  with  me  in  the  evidence  of 
the  existence  of  such  a  state  of  mind  as  that  which  this 
extract  describes.  It  is  in  full  accordance  with  other  tes- 
timonies, and  with  all  my  own  convictions.  Genuine 
Christianity  does  not  teach  us  to  despise  the  approbation 
of  others,  or  undervalue  any  useful  attainment  which  may 
be  the  object  of  that  approbation.  But  when  it  obtains 
full  possession  of  the  mind,  it,  in  a  great  degree,  dislodges 
those  secondary  motives  and  considerations,  which  con- 
stitute the  great  principles  of  action  in  the  men  of  the 
world.  It  does  not  produce  meanness  or  servility ;  but  it 
produces  lowliness  of  mind.  It  not  only  inculcates  a  spi- 
rit of  self-distrust  and  diffidence,  and  indifference  to  hu- 
man glory  ;  but  in  its  very  nature  induces  these  disposi- 
tions. The  individual  who  feels  the  charm  and  the  power 
of  a  Saviour's  love,  and  who  attaches  to  his  approbation 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART.  175 

all  that  constitutes  the  glory  of  future  hope,  will  not  be 
much  concerned  for  the  honours  or  the  applause  of  this 
world.  Into  these  views  and  feelings  few  have  entered 
more  fully  and  even  enthusiastically  than  the  subject  of 
these  memoirs.  All  his  letters  are  illustrative  of  this  state 
of  mind ;  and  his  whole  conduct  was  a  living  commentary 
on  his  letters. 


176  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 


CHAPTER  V. 

Letter  to  his  Mother  in  reference  to  his  becoming  a  Tutor  in  a  family 
of  high  respectability  —  Letter  to  Herbert  Smith,  Esq.  —  Extracts 
from  his  Journal  —  Letter  to  Mr.  Craik  —  Letter — Extracts  from  his 
Journal  —  Letter  to  Mr.  Trail  —  Letter  to  his  Sister  —  Letters  — 
Extracts  from  various  letters  to  Mr.  Scott  Moncrieff — Letter  to  his 
friend  C.  —  Letter  to  Mr.  Herbert  Smith  —  Letter  to  the  Rev.  John 
Burnett  —  Letter  to  Mr.  Adam  —  Letter  to  Mr.  Orme  —  Letter  — 
Letters  to  his  Sister  —  Letter  to  Mr.  Trail  —  Letter  to  Mr.  Adam 
—  Letter  to  his  afflicted  friend  —  Letter  to  Mr.  Trail. 

Previously  to  John's  leaving  St.  Andrew's,  a  negotia- 
tion had  been  carried  on,  through  Dr.  Chalmers,  with  a 
family  of  the  highest  respectability,  in  which  a  tutor  was 
required  for  an  only  son.  It  was  finally  agreed  that  he 
should  occupy  this  situation  soon  after  the  close  of  his 
College  course.  This  arrangement  arose,  not  out  of  any 
change  in  his  mind  respecting  the  work  of  the  gospel,  but 
was  acceded  to,  with  a  view  to  satisfy  his  friends,  and 
finally  to  gain  their  consent  to  his  becoming  a  missionary ; 
and  also,  in  the  expectation  of  being  able  to  promote  his 
own  improvement  by  retirement  and  study.  The  follow- 
ing extract  from  a  letter  to  his  mother,  will  explain  his 
motives,  the  state  of  his  mind,  and  a  few  other  particulars: 

"St.  Andrew's,  April  15,  1826. 
"  My  Dear  Mother  —  I  am  afraid  I  have  kept  you  in 
suspense  regarding  my  plans.     I  have   been  waiting  in 
daily  expectation  of  hearing  something  more  definite  re- 
specting the  situation  I  wrote  about. 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART.  177 

*^  Before  T  heard  of  this  situation  at  all,  I  wrote  to  Mr. 
Orme,  asking  his  advice  how  1  ought  to  proceed  after  this 
session,  telling  him  my  views  regarding  missions,  and  par- 
ticularly wishing  to  know  the  state  of  the  Missionary 
Society's  arrangements.  I  received  his  answer,  and  my 
father's  last  letter  by  the  same  post.  His  advice  was  to 
write  to  Mr.  Arundel,  making  application  to  the  Society. 
You  know  this  was  the  plan  I  had  pui'posed  to  myself,  and 
you  may  guess  that  I  was  in  no  small  perplexity  how  to 
act.  The  prospect  of  benefitting  by  classes  at  Glasgow, 
my  extreme  youth  and  inexperience,  and,  above  all,  the 
wish  to  show  my  dear  parents  that  I  am  willing  to  acquiesce 
in  their  wishes  as  far  as  conscience  will  permit,  have  in- 
duced me  to  accept  of  this  situation.  I  hope  the  Lord  has 
been  my  guide  in  this  matter. 

"  Accordingly  I  communicated  my  willingness  to  avail 
myself  of  his  kindness,  to  Dr.  Chalmers,  who  wrote  to 
Lord  Rosslyn  immediately.  A  letter  has  come  from  Lord 
Rosslyn  to  Dr.  Chalmers,  this  morning,  enclosing  a  letter 

from  Colonel  M to  his  lordship,  giving  some  more 

information  respecting  the  place.  Nothing  is  said  about 
the  salary.  I  do  not  expect  it  will  be  great,  as  my  charge 
will  be  very  small,  and  I  am  to  have  the  liberty  of  attend- 
ing classes. 

^'  I  told  Dr.  Chalmers  distinctly  to  state  to  Lord  Eosslyn 
that  I  am  a  Dissenter,  and  that  if  I  am  near  Glasgow,  I 
should  like  to  attend  Dr.  Wardlaw,  or  Mr.  Ewing.  Per- 
haps this  may  be  an  objection  to  my  settling  in  the  family; 
if  so,  it  Is  better  that  it  be  stated  now,  than  afterwards." 

Previously  to  his  joining  the  family,  then  on  a  visit  at 
Lord  Kosslyn's,  at  Dysart  House,  he  proposed  a  short 


178  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

missionary  tour  in  the  Highlands,  along  with  his  friend 
Mr.  Adam ;  but  he  was  taken  ill  in  his  father's  house,  and 
rendered  incapable  of  any  exertion  for  some  weeks.  While 
convalescent  he  wrote  a  lon^  letter  to  an  old  fellow-student, 
between  whom  and  himself  there  appears  to  have  subsisted 
a  very  endeared  friendship.  I  mean  Herbert  Smith,  Esq., 
of  Egham,  Surrey.  The  testimony  of  that  gentleman,  to 
the  amiable,  and  Christian  character  of  my  beloved  friend, 
and  to  his  high  intellectual  attainments,  corresponds  with 
that  of  all  his  other  associates.  To  him  John  gives  an 
account  of  some  of  the  plans  which  had  been  prosecuted 
at  St.  Andrew's,  during  the  preceding  winter.  In  this 
respect  it  is  particularly  interesting,  and  also  for  the  refer- 
ence to  the  simultaneous  movements  in  the  Universities. 

"  Perth,  May  11,  1826. 
"  My  very  Dear  Friend  —  I  was  just  going  to  pro- 
ceed with  an  account  of  the  St.  Andrew's  University  Mis- 
sionary Society,  (in  which  you  have  always  taken  so  deep 
an  interest,)  when  I  was  compelled  to  leave  off,  through 
weakness.  To  resume  the  subject  then  —  at  our  first 
meeting  we  had  not  a  very  large  attendance  :  we  presented 
the  difierent  presents  of  books  which  had  been  received 
from  yourself.  Dr.  Morrison,  Mr.  Townley,  and  other 
friends  of  the  missionary  cause.  I  then  read  to  the  So- 
ciety that  part  of  your  very  interesting  letter,  which 
directly  referred  to  our  association ;  and,  I  trust,  we  have 
profited  by  the  hints  it  contained.  Votes  of  thanks  were 
ordered  to  be  transferred  to  those  liberal  donors  who  had 
made  such  valuable  additions  to  its  library.  I  took  the 
responsibility  of  communicating  to  you  this  expression  of 
the  Society's  gratitude.     I  am  ashamed  to  think  that  it 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUIIART.  179 

has  not  been  communicated  long,  long  ere  now.  I  cannot 
go  minutely  into  details.  Suffice  it  to  say,  that  the  Society 
has  prospered  even  more  than  in  the  former  session.  "We 
were  kindly  permitted  to  meet  in  the  old  Episcopalian 
chapel.  Dr.  Haldane  at  once  accepted  the  patronage  of 
the  Society,  and  oifered  any  room  in  St.  Mary's  we  might 
think  convenient,  as  a  place  of  meeting.  One  thing  I 
think  exceedingly  interesting,  is,  that  similar  societies 
have  now  been  formed  in  all  the  Universities  of  Scotland, 
and  a  kind  of  simultaneous  movement  was  made  this  last 
session,  towards  a  system  of  general  correspondence. 
Might  we  hope  that  this  could  be  extended  to  institutions 
of  a  similar  nature,  in  the  Universities  of  England  ?  In  a 
letter  from  the  Society  in  the  Glasgow  University,  they 
mentioned  that  they  had  had  some  correspondence  with  a 
Missionary  Association  in  one  of  the  Colleges  of  America. 
It  were  very  desirable  (and  I  think  it  is  not  impracticable) 
to  see  all  the  pious  young  men  in  our  great  seminaries  of 
learning,  united  to  each  other  by  this  great  bond  of  Chris- 
tian philanthropy.  Perhaps  you  could  do  something  by 
opening  a  channel  of  correspondence  between  some  of  the 
Colleges  in  Cambridge,  and  the  Scottish  Universities.  I 
expect  to  spend  next  winter  in  Glasgow.  I  could  com- 
municate anything  from  you  on  this  subject,  to  the  Asso- 
ciation there,  and  it  would  immediately  be  circulated 
among  the  sister  Universities. 

"  Ibth.  There  is  a  new  system  of  religious  instruction 
which  has  been  attempted  in  St.  Andrew's  this  last  session, 
and  which  I  think  is  a  most  efficient  system  for  evangel- 
izing large  toAvns.  The  plan  is  very  simple.  We  just 
inquired  after  some  persons  residing  in  different  quarters 
of  the  town,  who  were  religiously  disposed.     We  called 


180  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

on  these,  and  requested  the  favour  of  a  room  in  their 
house,  for  a  few  of  the  neighbours  to  assemble  in  for 
religious  purposes.  We  expected  a  little  group  of  eight 
or  ten  persons  to  assemble,  but  were  astonished  to  find  the 
attendance  increase  in  some  of  the  stations  to  fifty  or 
sixty.  Many  of  these  never  went  to  church.  We  gene- 
rally read  and  explained  a  passage  of  Scripture,  and  read 
some  extracts  from  such  books  as  we  thought  were  most 
striking  and  useful.  I  have  some  doubt  whether  a  lay- 
man in  the  Church  of  England  could  attempt  this  ;  but  if 
the  laws  of  the  church  and  the  state  allow,  I  think  many 
a  Christian  would  find  ample  scope  for  such  employment, 
in  the  dark  places  of  your  towns  and  villages.  You  under- 
derstand,  we  never  called  it  preaching ;  and  accordingly 
Dr.  Haldane  gave  his  consent  that  the  young  men  in  the 
Established  Church  should  engage  in  the  work.  Church- 
men and  Dissenters  all  went  hand  in  hand,  and  we  for- 
got that  there  was  any  distinction.  And  this  must  be  the 
case  more  universally,  ere  the  cause  of  our  great  Redeemer 
can  go  triumphantly  forward.  Tait  has  already  begun  simi- 
lar meetings  in  Edinburgh,  and  some  have  been  commenced 
here.  I  do  think  this  a  most  plausible  method  for  getting 
at  that  class  of  the  community  who  do  not  attend  the  public 
services  of  the  gospel.  You  know  Dr.  Chalmers's  plan  is 
a  little  different.  He  wishes  the  Christian  philanthropist 
to  visit  every  family.  The  great  objection  to  this  plan, 
in  my  estimation,  is  the  difficulty  of  finding  a  sufficient 
number  of  agents.  The  Doctor's  objection  to  pulpit  in- 
structions, when  they  stand  alone,  is,  that  you  are  setting 
up  a  centre  of  attraction ;  this  will  only  draw  some  of  the 
people,  some  are  not  under  the  influence  of  the  attracting 
power,  and  they  must  be  dealt  with  in  another  way.     You 


MEMOITl    OF    JOHN    IJIIQUHAP.T.  181 

must  make  an  aggressive  movement  towards  them.  Before 
setting  the  plan  I  speak  of  in  operation,  I  asked  Dr.  Chal- 
mers's opinion  of  it.  He  gave  his  decided  approbation  to 
it,  although  he  thought  the  system  of  individual  visitation 
a  better  one,  i^it  could  be  accomplished.  This  new  plan, 
however,  he  thought  had  a  much  greater  efficacy  than 
common  preaching,  when  alone.  Instead  of  setting  -up 
one  great  centre  of  attraction ;  it  was  like  carrying  about 
the  magnet,  and  bringing  it  near  to  the  iron  filings. 

"  P.  S.  I  am  not  sure  where  I  may  be  this  summer,  but 
a  letter  addressed  to  my  father's  care,  will  always  find 
me.  I  could  have  written  a  great  deal  more,  but  my  writ- 
ing is  so  bad  that  I  fear  when  written  across,  it  is  quite 
unintelligible.     I  wish  I  had  taken  a  larger  sheet." 

From  this  time  I  shall  do  little  more  than  make  John 
his  own  biographer ;  a  journal  which  he  began  to  keep 
more  regularly  and  fully  than  formerly,  and  a  large  mass 
of  letters,  will  enable  me  to  maintain  a  tolerably  connected 
narrative,  without  interposing  many  remarks  of  my  own. 
To  enable  the  reader  to  form  some  idea  of  his  journal,  I 
shall  give  the  first  part  of  it  almost  entire,  afterwards  I 
shall  intersperse  a  few  extracts  from  it,  with  his  corres- 
pondence. As  he  lived  for  the  most  part  very  retired,  no 
extraordinary  incidents  can  be  expected ;  but  his  steady 
and  rapid  advancement  towards  the  heavenly  glory  is 
strongly  marked. 

"Dysart  House,  June  3,  1826. 

"  My  journal  has  now  been   at  a  stand   for  nearly  a 
month,  and  I  think  I  have  experienced  the  bad  effects  of 
16 


182  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

neglecting  it.  Hitherto  it  has  been  exclusively,  or  nearly 
exclusively,  literary ;  and,  even  in  that  point  of  view,  ex- 
tremely meagre,  a  mere  catalogue  of  the  number  of  pages 
read  and  written.  May  I  not,  with  advantage,  extend  my 
plan  ?  I  think  I  have  profited  in  my  studies,  from  taking 
daily  account  of  my  progress.  Might  not  this  hold  equally 
in  regard  to  other  engagements  ?  I  have  strong  objections 
to  the  writing  down  of  religious  experiences.  Perhaps  I 
am  wrong  in  this.  My  strongest  objection  is  the  fear  that 
these  papers  may  meet  the  eye  of  another,  and  that  this 
consideration  might  influence  me  in  writing.  This  might 
prove  a  great  source  of  delusion  to  my  own  soul.  But 
still,  perhaps,  I  am  wrong.  The  conduct  of  the  most  emi- 
nent servants  of  Christ  is  a  strong  plea  in  favour  of  such 
journals.  I  am  much  pleased  with  the  plan  of  my  dear 
Henry  Craik  on  this  matter.  I  shall  attempt  something 
on  his  system.  If  I  fail,  it  matters  not.  I  must  just 
relapse  into  my  old  brief  summary.  But  to  begin.  What 
have  I  done  last  month  ?  Left  St.  Andrew's  in  the  end 
of  April.  Spent  a  fortnight  at  home  with  my  relations, 
and  my  dear  John  Adam.  Unwell  nearly  all  the  time, 
and  prevented  by  illness  from  an  intended  missionary  ex- 
pedition to  the  Highlands.  Came  here  about  the  middle 
of  May.  Felt  the  dreariness  of  having  no  Christian 
society.  Favoured  with  an  introduction  to  some  of  the 
*  excellent  of  the  earth,'  Captain  Barclay,  Mr.  Thompson, 
&c.  I  have  studied  very  little  since  I  came  here,  have 
felt  unsettled.  This  is  quite  wrong.  We  should  ever  be 
ready  for  duty,  and  it  is  our  own  fault,  if,  in  all  circum- 
stances, we  do  not  find  abundance  to  occupy  our  time. 

"  4itli.  Sunday  evening. — Read  one  chapter  of  the  Greek 
Testament.      Found   my  pupil   rather  backward   in   his 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART.'  183 

attendance  on  my  religious  instructions.  Anything  con- 
nected with  the  service  of  the  English  Church  is  most 
relished  by  the  family.  Even  the  Scriptures  seem  most 
acceptable  when  I  propose  reading  the  lessons  for  the  day. 
It  is  right  to  humour  these  prejudices,  in  imitation  of  him 
who  became  '  all  things  to  all  men.'  I  have  heard  two 
very  excellent  discourses  from  Mr.  Thomas  and  Mr. 
Aikenhead,  respectively.  Visited  a  Sabbath-school,  and 
addressed  the  children.  I  have  some  fear,  that  these  in- 
stitutions are  not,  in  all  cases,  productive  of  the  good  that 
might  be  expected,  for  want  of  more  efficient  modes  of 
teaching.  Committing  to  memory  w^iat  they  do  not  under- 
stand, can  profit  the  children  very  little.  My  second  pro- 
posal, for  holding  family  worship  with  the  servants,  has  been 
received  w^ith  coolness,  but  not  absolutely  negatived.  The 
Lord  will  open  up  ways  of  usefulness  for  me.  Read  ninety 
pages  of  the  Rev.  Thomas  Scott's  Life,  exceedingly  in- 
terestinf'. 

"■  5th.  A  very  idle  day.  I  find  I  cannot  study  to  advan- 
tage without  a  plan.  I  shall  lay  it  down  as  a  maxim,  how- 
ever short  time  I  may  stay  in  any  place,  to  have  my  hours 
allotted  specifically  to  difierent  engagements  as  far  as  such 
an  arrangement  may  be  practicable.  For  w^ant  of  this,  I 
have  lost  much  of  the  time  I  have  spent  at  Dysart.  At- 
tended a  missionary  prayer  meeting  this  evening,  but  was 
in  a  very  cold  and  careless  frame  of  mind.  I  have  felt  for 
some  days,  as  if  a  veil  were  drawn  over  the  things  of  an- 
other w^orld.  I  fear  I  am  indulging  habits  of  sloth  and 
luxury.  In  what  am  I  denying  myself  P  Read  twenty 
pages  of  Scott's  Life.  Was  rather  astonished  at  his  idea, 
(expressed  in  the  narrative  after  his  conversion,)  that  even 
when  a  Socinian,  his  prayers  were  '  spiritual  enough'  to 


18'lr  MEMOIR    OP    JOHN    UR  QUI!  ART. 

find  acceptance  with  God.  Can  a  prayer  be  listened  to 
by  God,  wliich  is  presumptuously  oflered  up  without  any 
regard  to  the  Mediator  whom  he  has  appointed?  When 
searching  after  the  truth,  Scott  read  none  but  religious 
books  for  three  years.  Afterwards  he  returned  to  general 
reading,  and  even  felt  a  pleasure  in  perusing  the  classics, 
and  other  works  of  taste.  I  have  read  since  I  came,  four 
hundred  pages  of  Godwin's  History  of  the  Commonwealth. 
He  advocates  the  cause  of  the  Puritans  in  their  political 
conduct.  He  dislikes  the  pompous  and  persecuting  spirit 
of  the  prelacy.  He  seems  to  like  Presbyterianism  worse, 
(as  it  then  existed,)  as  having  all  the  intolerance  of  Epis- 
copacy, without  its  splendor.  And  he  gives  unqualified 
praise  to  the  Independents  of  these  times,  as  the  great 
champions  of  unrestrained  liberty,  civil  and  religious. 

"  Qth.  With  my  pupil  three  hours  in  the  forenoon.  One 
hour  walking,  and  one  hour  bathing.  This  runs  away 
with  a  great  part  of  the  day.  I  am  much  pleased  with 
my  pupil  at  present.  His  disposition  is  amiable,  and  his 
faculties  acute.  His  desire  for  knowledge  is  very  great. 
He  has  been  amusing  himself  to-night  in  making  a  uni- 
verse with  little  balls  of  wax  stuck  upon  pins.  I  feel  very 
thankful  for  a  situation,  in  many  respects,  so  agreeable  as 
the  one  I  occupy.  But  I  feel  I  am  doing  little  actual  ser- 
vice to  the  cause  of  my  Lord.  Eead  thirty  pages  of 
Scott's  Life.  His  prayers  for  his  relations  were  eminently 
answered.  I  have  felt  this  an  encouragement  to  greater 
fervency  in  prayer  for  those  who  are  so  dear  to  me  accord- 
ing to  the  flesh.  And  yet,  the  fact  that  I  derive  encour- 
agement from  this  instance  of  an  answer  to  prayer,  is  a 
proof  of  the  weakness  of  my  faith  on  the  promises  of  God. 
If  I  sufficiently  believed  them,  I  should  not  need  particu- 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART.  185 

lar  instances  of  their  fulfilment,  to  encourage  me.  Can 
anything  be  surer  than  the  promise  of  God  ?  Finished  the 
first  volume  of  Godwin's  Commonwealth.  Very  little  con- 
vcrsatiouj  and  that  exceedingly  trifling  and  general.  What 
can  I  do,  in  my  present  circumstances,  for  the  good  of  this 
family  ?  The  Lord  direct  me  !  Read  two  chapters  of  the 
Greek  Testament.     Bed  at  eleven  o'clock. 

"  8fh.  Yesterday  I  was  so  fatigued,  that  I  wrote  none 
in  my  journal ;  and  to-night  I  have  a  much  better  excuse 
for  putting  it  off,  in  a  very  painful  headache ;  but  I  must 
cultivate  habits  of  regularity,  and  write  something,  how- 
ever short.  Yesterday,  I  completed  my  eighteenth  year. 
Hitherto  hath  the  Lord  brought  me  ;  and,  in  spite  of  much 
wickedness  and  ingratitude,  he  continues  to  bless  me. 
How  little  have  I  done  !  Hitherto  I  have  made  my  youth 
an  excuse  for  much  inactivity !  Will  this  be  an  excuse  at 
the  bar  of  God  ?  I  have  been  much  troubled  these  some 
days,  with  abominably  sinful  thoughts.  Lord,  cleanse 
thou  me  from  secret  faults  ;  and  0  keep  back  thy  servant 

from  presumptuous  sins.     Read  part  of  Scott's  Life. 

Much  struck  with  his  remarks  on  practical  preaching,  and 
the  unpopularity  to  which  his  own  system  exposed  him." 

"  Tennoch  Side,  near  Glasgott. 
"14^7^.  Arrived  here  night  before  last. — My  journal 
was  neglected  yesterday,  in  consequence  of  my  papers 
being  mislaid.  —  Left  Dysart  on  Saturday  morning,  and 
arrived  in  Leith  a  few  hours  after,  where  I  stayed  till 
Monday  afternoon.  —  A  very  unprofitable  visit.  —  Some 
conversations  with  my  kind  and  respected  friends,  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Alexander,  I  remember  with  pleasure,  but 
scarcely  anything  else  of  my  friends,  whom  I  had  au 
16* 


186  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

opportunity  of  seeing.  I  feel  very  comfortable  here,  and 
have  much  to  make  me  thankful  to  the  great  Father  of 
our  mercies.  Although  I  am  disappointed  in  one  great 
object,  (attendance  on  classes  in  Glasgow),  which  I  had  in 
view  on  coming  here,  yet  I  trust  the  Lord  has  directed 
me.  May  I  be  enabled,  faithfully,  to  fulfil  the  important 
duties  of  my  station,  and  to  devote  every  moment  of  my 
time  to  the  service  of  my  God !  —  Read  Shakspeare's 
Midsummer  Night's  Dream.  —  Never  read  a  whole  play 
of  this  great  poet  before.  Some  exquisitely  fine  passages  ; 
and,  throughout,  the  whole  admirably  true  to  nature.  But 
how  much  that  is  revolting,  even  to  a  mind  so  partially 
sanctified  as  mine  !  Can  it  be  right  in  a  Christian  to 
travel  over  pages  filled  with  vain  imaginations,  swearing, 
and  often  gross  obscenity,  in  order  to  arrive  at  some  beau- 
tiful passage,  which,  after  all,  can  only  gratify  or  improve 
his  taste  ?  The  pearls  are  indeed  fine,  and  present  a  great 
temptation ;  but,  after  all,  they  are  not  worth  the  diving 
for,  or  at  least,  the  ocean  that  covers  them  is  too  perilous 
to  be  needlessly  encountered  by  so  feeble  an  adventurer 
as  I.  Read  two  chapters  in  the  Greek  Testament.  What 
a  blessing  that  we  have  sublimer  and  purer  joys  than  those 
that  are  afi'orded  by  the  bright,  but  transient  flashes  of 
unsanctified  wit,  or  the  glare  of  a  powerful,  yet  polluted 
imagination ! 

'^Thursday.  —  Rose  at  six  —  read  one  chapter  of  the 
Greek  Testament.  I  am  engaged  with  my  pupil  four  hours 
a  day,  viz.  from  seven  to  eight,  and  from  ten  to  eleven, 
A.  M. ;  and  from  one  to  two,  and  from  five  to  six,  P.  M. 
My  books  are  yet  in  Glasgow,  and  this  has  been  an  excuse 
for  idleness.  Read  another  play  of  Shakspeare's.  More 
to  disgust,  and  less  to  gratify  in  this,  than  in  the  last.     I 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART.  187 

cannot  read  these  plays  without  being  injured  by  them. 
Wrote  a  letter  to  my  dear  Nesbit.  Received  one  from  my 
dear  father.  Have  sat  a  considerable  time  this  evening 
trying  to  make  verses.  Succeeded  in  manufacturing  one 
stanza.  I  may  say  with  the  Rev.  Thomas  Scott,  '  God 
has  not  made  me  a  poet.'  And  I  hope  I  shall  profit  from 
his  observation,  that  he  was  thankful  for  never  having 
attempted  to  make  himself  one. 

"  I  almost  despair  of  being  able  to  introduce  profitable 
conversation.  How  difiicult  to  fix  that  precise  line  of 
duty,  which  timorous  indecision  dares  not  approach,  and 
which  rash,  unthinking  zeal  is  sure  to  overstep !" 

"  Tennoch  Side,  June  30,  1826. 
^'My  very  Dear  Craik  — This  is  a  solitary  place.  I 
am  all  alone.  The  sweets  of  friendship,  and  the  joys  of 
Christian  fellowship,  are  to  me  now  associated  with  the 
remembrance  of  the  days  that  are  gone.  But  yet,  I  am 
not  alone ;  God  is  here.  And  should  duty  '  command  me 
to  the  furthest  verge  of  the  green  earth,  to  distant,  bar- 
barous shores,'  He  is  there  too.  The  ^communion  of  the 
saints,'  is,  indeed,  a  delightful  privilege ;  but  what  is  it,  when 
compared  with  that  far  higher  privilege,  which  change  of 
circumstances  cannot  afiect ;  even  that  '  fellowship  which 
is  with  the  Father,  and  with  his  Son,  Jesus  Christ.' 
Every  shifting  scene  of  life  that  passes  before  me,  con- 
vinces me  more  and  more,  that  happiness  has  a  very  slight 
dependence  on  our  external  circumstances.  They  may 
add  to  it,  or  diminish  it ;  but  they  can  neither  give  it,  nor 
take  it  away.  Mere  animal  gratification  is  enjoyed  nearly 
equally  by  all  classes ;  all  are  equally  subject  to  disease, 
and  if  the  rich  seem  to  enjoy  more  of  the  good  things  of 


188  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

this  life  than  others,  they  only  seem  to  do  so.  Luxury 
has  deprived  them  of  the  comforts  of  life,  and  has  con- 
verted its  superfluities  into  comfortless  necessaries.  Even 
intellectual  happiness,  I  believe  to  be  more  generally  and 
equally  diffused,  than  is  commonly  imagined.  But  the 
truth  is,  there  is  no  true  happiness  without  the  enjoyment 
of  God's  favour.  How  true  is  it,  that  '  his  favour  is  life;* 
for  without  it,  life  deserves  not  the  name  ;  it  is  but  a  living 
death.  '  Immo  vero,  ii  vivunt,  qui  ex  corporum  vineulis 
taiiquam  e  carcere^  evolaverunt ;  nostra  vero  quee  dicitur 
vita,  mors  est.'  We  are  more  highly  favoured  than  the 
ancient  philosopher  who  wrote  these  words.  Even  here 
we  may  have  glimpses  of  the  celestial  happiness.  Eternal 
life  is  begun  on  earth.  It  is  true,  we  may  not  walk  in  the 
freedom  of  spiritual  enlargement,  till  we  have  put  off  these 
vile  bodies ;  but  even  within  their  prison-house  there  may 
be  many  an  alleviation  of  our  sufferings  ;  we  may  be  freed 
from  those  fetters  that  galled  us  sore,  and  deprived  us 
even  of  the  little  freedom  which  the  bounds  of  a  prison- 
house  might  permit.  We  may  be  gaining  new  victories 
over  the  devil,  the  world,  and  the  flesh,  even  while  here. 
Let  it  be  our  earnest  endeavour  to  maintain  this  holy  war- 
fare within  our  breasts ;  and  while  we  drink  freely  of  the 
fountain  of  life,  let  us  not  forget  to  present  its  vivifying 
waters  to  that  world,  which  is  '  dead  in  trespasses  and 
sins.' 

"  I  have  been  looking  over  what  I  have  written,  and 
find  it  is  not  like  a  letter  at  all.  But  I  need  make  no 
apologies  to  you.  I  am  here,  nearly  eight  miles  from 
Glasgow,  and  have  been  there  only  twice.  My  pupil  went 
there  yesterday  with  the  family ;  and,  as  there  was  room 
for  me    in   the   carriage,   I  went   in   the   morning,   and 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART.  189 

returned  in  the  evening.  Of  course,  I  had  not  much 
time  to  see  the  town.  I  looked  into  the  area  of  the  col- 
lege ;  a  fine  old,  substantial  building.  Their  library,  which 
was  the  only  room  I  went  into,  does  not  seem  to  be  as  fine 
as  ours.  Ours  !  did  I  say  ?  But  you  know  what  I  mean. 
The  cathedral  is  a  venerable  building,  though  somcAvhat 
disfigured  by  modern  additions.  The  statue  of  our  revered 
Knox  stands  on  a  neighbouring  hill.  Glasgow  is  blessed 
with  evangelical  ministers  in  all  denominations.  There  is 
an  institution  I  visited  last  night,  with  the  plan  of  which 
I  was  very  much  pleased.  It  is  a  sort  of  religious  coffee- 
room.  There  is  a  large  hall,  where  about  twenty  differ- 
ent religious  institutions  hold  their  meetings  ;  and  a  read- 
ing room  below,  where  the  Reports  and  other  periodical 
publications,  connected  with  all  the  religious  societies  of 
the  day,  are  to  be  found.  A  book  lay  on  the  table,  for 
the  insertion  of  hints,  or  inquiries  on  any  subject  con- 
nected with  the  great  interests  of  Christianity.  In  this 
I  found  some  remarks  in  the  hand-writing  of  '  our  excel- 
lent Chalmers.'  I  have  had  an  introduction  to  the  nearest 
parish  minister  ;  but  have  seen  very  little  of  him  yet.  He 
told  me  that  his  church  was  much  too  small  for  the  parish, 
—  and  that  he  believed  the  greater  number  of  his  parish- 
ioners were  growing  up  like  heathens.'' 

"  Tennoch  Side,  July  5,  1826. 
*'  My  very  Dear  Friend  —  I  begin  to  feel  anxious  to 
hear  from  some  of  you,  although  I  believe  the  agreement 
was,  that  I  should  write  first.  I  am  here  as  much  shut 
out  from  the  world,  at  least,  from  what  was  the  ivorld  to 
me,  as  I  could  be  in  the  deserts  of  Africa,  or  the  islands 
of  Japan.     I  write,  chiefly  to  beg  you  to  send  me  a  long 


190  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

letter,  —  it  is  all  of  friendship  I  can  now  enjoy.  You  will 
not  expect  much  from  this  wilderness.  I  have  little  to 
write  about  that  can  interest  you.  But  why  should  I  say 
so,  when  there  is  a  theme,  which  is  ever  delightful  to  the 
mind  of  a  Christian,  and  needs  not  novelty  to  give  it 
interest.  Yes,  we  have  a  joy  which  the  world  knows  not, 
and  which  no  changes  in  our  earthly  circumstances  can  at 
all  impair.  The  dearest  earthly  friends  may  be  removed 
from  us,  but  there  is  a  '  friend  that  sticketh  closer  than  a 
brother.'  Here  I  have  no  Christian  friend;  and  some- 
times my  spirits  sink  very  low,  when  I  think  on  other 
days.  But  these  are  sinful  thoughts.  '  The  Lord  gave, 
and  the  Lord  hath  taken  away ;  blessed  be  the  name  of 
the  Lord.'  Perhaps  some  path  of  usefulness  may  be 
pointed  out  to  me ;  but  at  present,  I  see  little  probability 
of  doing  anything,  except  with  my  pupil.  I  have  been  in 
Glasgow  twice.  1  met  Mr.  Erskine  there,  as  well  as  Mr. 
Ev/ing,  kc.  All  are  against  my  being  a  missionary,  but 
I  have  heard  no  arguments  against  it  that  seem  to  me  at 
all  conclusive.  What  is  doing  in  Edinburgh  ?  Have  you 
any  intercourse  with  the  few  St.  Andrian  friends  that  are 
in  the  great  city  ?  Alas  !  for  our  little  circle.  It  is  now 
sadly  broken  up,  and  we  never  shall  form  a  little  circle 
again.  One  of  our  number  is  in  the  south  of  England, 
another  in  the  north  of  Scotland,  and  all  scattered  abroad. 
The  fragments  of  the  little  community  are  in  Edinburgh. 
The  '  tria  are  there ;  but,  alas !  they  are  no  longer 
'juncta  in  uno.'"^  But,  I  hope  my  lamentations  are 
groundless.  Have  you  no  combinations  for  plans  of  use- 
fulness either  among  yourselves,  or  of  a  more  extensive 

*  He  alludes  to  the  St.  Andrew's  University  Magazine,  which  had 
this  motto. 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART.  191 

nature  ?  Something  was  talked  of  when  I  was  in  Edin- 
burgh. Has  it  been  accomplished  ?  When  do  jou  go  to 
Kirkliston  ?  Let  me  hear  particularly  of  your  operations 
there.  There  will  be  full  scope  for  your  most  strenuous 
exertions.  Can  you  suggest  to  me  any  practicable  scheme 
of  usefulness  ?     Do  favour  me  with  a  long  letter." 

Determined  not  to  remain  idle,  notwithstanding  the 
obscurity  and  difficulty  of  his  situation,  after  very  con- 
siderable exertion,  he  succeeded  in  collecting  a  number  of 
young  men  together,  and  for  their  benefit,  prepared  a 
very  excellent  address.  As  it  fully  explains  the  nature 
of  the  meeting  which  he  proposed,  it  ma}^  suggest  to  some 
others  the  importance  of  making  similar  attempts,  by 
which  great  good  might  be  effected.* 

About  this  time  he  appears  to  have  laboured  under 
severe  mental  depression.  Of  the  cause  of  this  no  doubt 
can  now  be  entertained.  It  was,  doubtless,  symptomatic 
of  the  insidious  disease  which  was  appointed  by  God  to  be 
the  messenger  of  his  dismission.  That  it  was  cherished 
by  the  intense  working  of  his  mind,  by  his  seclusion  from 
that  kind  of  society  which  was  congenial  to  his  feelings, 
and  by  anxiety  respecting  the  accomplishment  of  his  much 
desired  object,  I  feel  equally  assured.  I  think  it  right  to 
give  the  following  extract  from  his  journal,  which  will  ex- 
plain some  of  the  allusions  in  his  letters. 

^^July  IStJi.  Rose  at  seven.     Have  suffered  excessively 
to-day    from    mental    depression,    and    could    assign    no 
specific  cause  for  it.     I  am  half-inclined  to  ascribe  it  to 
*  See  Appendix  L. 


192  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHAKT. 

the  Immediate  agency  of  Satan,  or  some  of  his  emissaries. 
The  Lord  has  been  graciously  pleased  to  restore  me  to 
tranquillity ;  and  I  remember  the  former  part  of  the  day 
as  I  would  a  terrific  dream.  I  had  the  opportunity  of 
going  in  the  carriage  to  Hamilton,  and  was  in  hopes  that 
the  fresh  breeze,  and  the  laughing  face  of  nature,  would 
dispel  the  gloomy  darkness  within  my  breast.  But  it  was 
all  in  vain ;  the  malady  raged  with  greater  violence,  so  as 
almost  to  make  me  dread  real  madness,  and  to  recall  to 
my  mind  a  fearful  night  of  distraction  last  winter.  I  have 
besought  the  Lord  earnestly  that  this  might  depart  from 
me  ;  and  I  believe  that  I  owe  my  present  tranquillity  to 
his  gracious  condescension  in  listening  to  my  prayers.  I 
feel,  what  my  pride  likes  ill  to  admit,  that  I  am  a  very 
feeble  creature ;  weak,  not  only  in  body,  but  still  weaker 
in  mind  !  Is  this  a  fit  character  for  a  missionary  ?  In 
this  work  I  shall  soon  fail,  except  the  Lord  strengthen 
me.  But  even  I  may  say,  *  I  can  do  all  things  through 
Christ  strengthening  me.'  After  all,  I  have  forced  my- 
self to  go  through  nearly  all  my  regular  studies  to-day. 

'■^Friday.  —  Have  discovered  much  to-night  of  the 
cursed  pride,  fickleness,  and  vanity  of  my  heart.  Did 
those  who  esteem  me  most,  know  me  as  I  do  myself,  they 
would  abhor  me.  I  do  abhor  myself.  Spent  half  an  hour 
in  prayer,  in  severe  mental  conflict.  But  even  for  this 
conviction  of  sin,  I  will  be  thankful.  It  is  well  to  know 
the  worst,  although  I  fear  I  do  not  know  the  worst  yet. 
*  Who  can  understand  his  errors  T 

"  I  know  the  remedy ;  and,  blessed  be  God,  despair  has 
not  yet  barred  the  way  to  it,  although  I  fear,  from  the 
little  effect  my  suiyposed  application  to  the  gospel  has  yet 
produced,  tliat  I  know  not  how  to  use  the  remedy.     The 


MEMOIR    OF    JOifTN    URQTJHART.  193 

Lord  can  teach  mc.  The  workings  of  mj  mind  have  been 
severely  painful  for  some  days,  although  in  very  different 
ways.  Perhaps  the  Lord  has  given  me  over,  like  his 
ancient  servant,  of  whom  I  have  been  reading,  to  be 
tempted  of  Satan.  Has  the  Mediator  '  prayed  for  me, 
that  my  faith  fail  not?'  I  will  believe  that  all  this  is 
for  good.  May  it  lead  me  to  know  my  own  utter  weak- 
ness, that  so  I  may  make  the  Lord  my  strength  !  Then 
I  may  say  with   Paul,    Svhen    I    am  weak,  then   am   I 


"Tennoch  Side,  July  17,  1826. 
"  My  Dear  Trail  —  I  believe,  in  regard  to  Christian 
society,  your  circumstances  very  nearly  resemble  my 
own :  and  if,  in  these  circumstances,  you  feel  as  keenly  as 
I  sometimes  do,  I  know  that  a  letter  from  an  old  com- 
panion will  not  be  unacceptable,  even  though  it  contain 
*  nothing  new.'  Accept  of  my  sincere  thanks  for  the 
notes  of  introduction  you  left  for  my  friend  and  me.  I 
was  sorry  that  my  short  stay  in  Edinburgh  permitted  me 
to  pay  but  a  very  short  visit  to  Wellwood  Lodge.  A 
Polish  missionary  was  staying  there  when  I  called,  with 
whom  I  conversed  a  little.  I  was  prevented  from  accom- 
panying our  friend,  John  Adam,  on  his  missionary  tour, 
in  consequence  of  illness.  I  believe  he  enjoyed  it  very 
much.  I  am  now  fairly  settled,  within  eight  miles  of 
Glasgow,  removed  from  every  Christian  friend  who  might 
excite  and  encourage  me  ;  and  sometimes  I  acknowledge  I 
feel  very  much  depressed  :  but  the  Lord  is  ever  near.  If 
I  feel  so  faint-hearted  here,  I  know  not  how  I  shall  en- 
dure the  living  solitude  of  a  city  of  idolaters,  or  the 
extreme  dreariness  of  a  savage  desert.  But,  '  through 
17 


194  MEMOIR    or    JOHN    urquhart. 

Christ  strengthening  me  I  can  do  all  things.'  What  plans 
of  usefulness  have  you  set  on  foot,  since  I  saw  you  ?  Can 
you  suggest  anything  to  me,  that  I  can  accomplish  here  ? 
Have  you  any  particular  plans  in  instructing  your  pupils, 
which  you  can  communicate,  for  I  feel  myself  quite  a 
novice  in  the  art  of  teaching ;  and  I  am  aware  that  there 
is  no  small  responsibility  connected  with  duties,  that  have 
such  an  immense  influence  in  forming  a  mind  which  is  to 
exist  for  ever ;  and  which,  in  the  remotest  ages  of  its  eter- 
nity, perhaps,  is  to  bear,  in  some  respects,  the  form  of  that 
mould  which  was  impressed  on  it  in  the  earliest  years  of 
its  existence.  Have  you  been  thinking  more  of  missions  ? 
I  find  everybody  dissuades  and  discourages  me,  urging  the 
great  wants  of  our  own  country.  I  think  I  feel  the  claims 
of  our  own  land  as  strongly  as  some  who  urge  them  against 
my  plans.  But  still  this  does  not  prevent  me  from  feeling 
the  immense  argumentative  force  of  the  simple  fact,  that 
nothing  has  yet  been  done  for  heathen  nations,  propor- 
tional to  their  vast  extent ;  and  nothing  to  fulfil  the  wide 
command  of  our  Lord.  I  have  had  two  letters  from  Captain 
Felix,  pressing  on  my  attention  the  state  of  Ireland.  By  this 
time,  our  dear  friend  Nesbit  has  applied  to  the  Scottish 
Missionary  Society.  I  trust  that  more  of  our  little  circle 
will  follow  his  example.  How  unfortunate  are  the  debates 
about  the  apocryphal  question  !  But  why  should  I  say 
unfortunate,  as  if  they  could  happen  without  the  know- 
ledge of  the  great  Head  of  the  Church. 

^'  18fA.  I  have  been  reading  the  former  part  of  my  sheet 
which  was  written  last  night,  and  find  it  is  a  very  dull  and 
careless  scrawl.  I  wish  I  could  send  you  something  bet- 
ter ;  but  the  fact  is,  I  have  been  labouring  under  very  un- 
common mental  depression,  which  renders  me  unfit  for 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    UEQUHART.  195 

doing  anything  as  I  could  wish.  I  have  had  a  drive  in. 
the  carriage  to  Hamilton  to-day,  and  feel  rather  better. 
I  know  3^ou  are  never  troubled  with  this  sort  of  affliction, 
and  may  be  disposed  to  laugh  at  it ;  but  I  can  assure  you, 
it  is  ten-fold  more  distressing  than  bodily  disease.  The 
latter  often  adds  to  spiritual  comfort ;  the  former  gene- 
rally destroys  it.  But  I  am  ashamed  of  having  said  so 
much  about  my  weaknesses ;  and  assuredly  I  should  not  have 
adverted  to  the  subject,  were  it  not  as  a  plea  for  an  early 
communication  from  you.  Send  me  something  to  cheer 
and  console  me.  Direct  me  to  the  great  objects  of  eter- 
nity, and  stir  me  up  to  do  something  in  the  cause  of  the 
Lord.  Although  I  am  sometimes  thus  depressed,  it  is  not 
always  so.  The  Lord  has  been  very  kind  to  me  since  I 
came  here.  I  have  heen  forced  to  seek  all  my  enjoyments 
in  communion  with  God.  It  is  well,  when  we  hasten  after 
other  lovers,  that  He,  who  will  have  our  wdiole  heart, 
should  hedge  up  our  way.  And  when  he  leads  us  into  the 
wilderness,  and  dries  up  many  a  source  of  wdiat  seemed 
holi/  enjoyment,  it  is  often  not  to  punish,  but  to  bless  us, 
to  '  speak  comfortably'  to  us.  ^Ye  do  well,  my  friend,  to 
examine  whether  the  Lord  alone  be  the  object  of  our 
affections.  When  surrounded  by  pious  friends,  who  are 
ready  to  praise,  or,  at  least,  to  esteem  us  for  our  zeal  in 
furthering  the  interests  of  religion,  it  is  difficult  to  deter- 
mine the  nature  of  our  motives.  Those  who  went  before 
our  Sa^dour  in  triumph  to  Jerusalem,  crying  Hosanna,  &;c., 
were  probably  afterwards  found  consenting  to  his  death ; 
and  even  the  boldest  and  most  devoted  of  his  chosen  few, 
*  forsook  him  and  fled.'  Are  we  ready  to  follow  the  Lord 
through  bad  as  well  as  through  good  report  ?  Have  we 
ever  yet  been  put  to  the  trial  ?     Have  you  read  Samuel 


196  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

Rutherford's  letters  ?  I  have  been  delighted  and  humbled 
by  the  perusal.  How  much  of  heaven  may  be  enjoyed  on 
earth,  if  we  will  but  care  to  seek  for  it.  I  feel  that  I 
know  nothing  yet  of  Christ,  or  of  fellowship  with  him. 
Write  very  soon  to  your  affectionate  brother." 

*'  Texnoch  Side,  July  22,  1826. 
"My  Dear  Anne  —  Your  verses  pleased  me  much; 
and  with  what  else  I  have  seen  of  your  first  attempts  at 
composition,  lead  me  fondly  to  hope,  that  talents  have 
been  bestowed  on  you,  which,  with  due  culture,  and  per- 
severing application,  may  render  you,  I  will  not  say 
accomj^Ushed,  for  that  is  a  vain  thing,  as  the  term  is  gene- 
rally used ;  but  to  use  an  apparently  humbler,  yet,  in 
reality,  far  more  honourable  term,  talents  that  may  render 
you  useful.  I  say  not  this  to  make  you  proud,  but  to 
humble  you,  and  to  encourage  you  to  persevere.  You 
know  very  little  jet,  you  have  much  to  learn.  I  may  just 
hint,  that  in  your  letter,  I  can  observe  a  deficiency  in  one 
of  the  MOST  REQUISITE  of  all  literary  acquisitions.  You 
know  what  I  mean.  But  in  the  present  case,  the  hurry 
in  which  your  letter  has  evidently  been  written,  is  a  suffi- 
cient excuse.  I  like  your  verses.  The  idea  in  the  fourth 
verse,  I  think,  is  truly  poetical.  But  I  would  not  have 
you  aim  at  being  a  poetess,  my  sister.  Make  it  an  amuse- 
ment if  you  will,  or  a  means  of  acquiring  correctness  and 
facility  of  expression,  but  do  not  make  it  your  aim.  The 
most  brilliant  acquirements  are  not  the  most  useful.  Let 
me  remind  you,  my  dear  Anne,  that  you  and  I  are  born 
to  fill  humble  stations  in  this  world,  (and  God  be  thanked, 
it  is  so ;  the  humblest  are  the  happiest.)  Do  not  aim, 
then,  at  anything  above  your  station.     Do  not  court  the 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUIIART.  197 

society  of  the  rich  and  the  gay ;  for,  comparativehj,  I  may 
apply  these  terms  even  to  the  little  sphere  in  wliich  you 
move ;  but  choose  3^our  companions  from  those  who  have 
the  true  riches  of  knowledge,  and  (if  I  may  add  a  qualifi- 
cation you  may  not  easily  find)  sterling  piety.  The  man- 
7iers  of  your  companions  should  not  be  overlooked ;  and, 
by  this  expression,  I  do  not  so  much  mean  the  knowledge, 
or  ready  repetition  of  a  few  Idnd-looJcing  phrases,  which 
even  the  most  unkind  can  learn,  as  that  am.iable  and 
obliging  disposition,  which  is  the  politeness  of  the  heart. 
In  the  present  state  of  society,  however,  a  person  who 
wishes  to  be  truly  agreeable,  will  see  the  necessity  of 
attending  to  a  few  of  those  forms  of  kindness  which  pass 
current  in  the  world.  I  did  not  mean  to  write  so  many 
advices ;  but  now  that  I  have  begun,  I  will  plead  the 
authority,  I  will  rather  say,  the  aifection  of  a  brother,  as 
an  excuse  for  adding  some  more.  Let  me  entreat  you  to 
cultivate  domestic  virtues.  The  Bible  bids  us  not  only 
love  and  obey,  but  also  honour  our  parents.  Be  particu- 
larly careful  to  remember  this,  especially  in  regard  to  our 
dear  mother,  to  whom  your  little  services  may  now  render 
considerable  assistance.  Above  all,  my  very  dear  sister, 
let  me  entreat  you  to  remember  that  we  were  not  made 
merely  to  figure  for  a  little  on  the  stage  of  this  passing 
world.  This  life  is  but  the  infancy  of  an  eternal  exist- 
ence ;  and  yet,  here  the  choice  must  be  made,  that  shall 
render  all  that  is  worth  calling  the  life  of  an  immortal 
creature,  perfectly  happy,  or  perfectly  wretched.  You 
think  you  know  the  truths  of  the  gospel,  my  sister.  Do 
you  feel  its  influence  ?  Do  not  be  even  too  sure  that  you 
understand  the  message  of  glad  tidings  in  the  Bible. 
Many  who  now  think  they  understand,  will  find  hereafter 
17* 


198  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

that  tliey  have  mistaken  its  meaning.  But,  0  do  remem- 
ber !  it  is  not  enough  to  understand.  Examine  whether 
Christ,  and  his  atonement  alo7ic,  he  all  your  salvation.  It 
is  easif  to  mistake.  We  are  never  more  apt  to  sleep  the 
sleep  of  a  security,  from  which  eternal  death  alone  will 
awake  us,  than  when  guarded  from  gross  temptations  by 
protecting  friends,  accustomed  from  infancy  to  correct,  or 
at  least,  seemingly/  correct  views  of  the  gospel.  My  dear 
sister,  as  you  value  your  happiness,  beware  of  a  misplaced 
hope  of  heaven.  I  do  not  cease  to  pray  that  the  Lord 
would  make  you  his  own.  I  should  think  my  prayers  in 
part  answered,  did  I  know  that  you  had  been  constrained 
to  pray  with  earnestness  for  yourself." 

"August  2,  1826. 
"  My  very  Dear  Brother  —  They  say  there  is  more 
pleasure  in  hope,  than  in  actual  enjoyment;  and,  perhaps, 
this  is  the  reason  why  I  have  not  written  to  you  sooner. 
You  know  I  used  to  have  a  great  aversion  to  letter  writing ; 
but  now  that  it  is  almost  the  only  kind  of  Christian  inter- 
course that  is  left  me,  you  may  guess  that  I  regard  it  with 
very  different  feelings.  For  a  week  past  I  have  been 
cheering  my  solitary  hours  with  the  thought,  that  I  was 
just  about  to  unbosom  freely  all  my  feelings  to  my  dear 
John  Adam,  (a  luxury,  which  is  not  the  least  precious 
privilege  of  true  friendship),  and  day  after  day,  some 
little  trifle  has  seemed  a  sufficient  reason  for  putting  off; 
while  I  believed  the  true  cause  of  the  delay  has  been,  the 
desire  to  indulge  this  pleasing  expectation  a  little  longer. 
And  now  that  I  have  sat  down  to  write,  I  frankly  acknow- 
ledge that  I  have  little  or  nothing  to  say,  —  at  least,  in 
the  shape  of  news.      I  left  Dysart  too  late  to  see  you 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART.  199 

again  in  Edinburgh,  whence  I  proceeded  to  this  place  of 
exile,  where  I  have  now  counted  five  or  six  tardy  weeks 
of  unvaried  sameness,  excepting  one  or  two  visits  to  Glas- 
gow and  an  occasional  walk  to  Old  Monkland  Manse. 
You  know  me  too  well  to  require  me  to  tell  you  how  I  feel, 
without  a  single  Christian  friend  near.  The  harp  has 
been  often  out  of  tune ;  and  sometimes,  I  have  feared  that 
its  strings  were  about  to  break,  when  the  Lord  has  again 
tuned  it  to  his  own  praise.  Yes,  my  dear  friend,  I  have 
seen  much  of  the  deceitfulness  of  my  own  heart  since  I 
came  here.  I  thought  I  could  leave  all,  and  live  happy 
in  a  solitary  desert,  for  the  sake  of  Christ.  But  I  find 
that  much  of  my  happiness  was  drawn  from  cisterns,  and 
not  from  the  life-giving  fountain.  And  now  that  the 
Lord  has,  in  mercy,  broken  these,  to  lead  me  to  himself, 
I  have  been  ready  to  weep  as  if  my  all  were  lost.  I  fear 
I  have  mistaken  love  to  Christians  for  love  to  Christ.  I 
feel  more  reconciled  to  this  banishment,  when  I  think  that 
it  may  be  intended  to  wean  me  from  earth,  and  to  fit  me 
more  for  the  missionary  life.  I  have  hopes  -that  I  may  be 
honoured  to  be  useful  to  my  dear  pupil.  He  is  a  most 
interesting  boy ;  in  our  daily  reading  of  the  Scriptures, 
he  makes  inquiries  which  delight  me,  and  sometimes 
astonish  me.     All  things  are  possible  with  God. 

"  Monday  evening  —  The  above  was  written  on  Saturday 
night,  and  your  welcome  epistle  was  put  into  my  hand 
yesterday  morning.  Your  serious  charges  of  carelessness 
might  require  to  be  more  seriously  met,  than  in  the  above 
nondescript  rhapsody,  which  you  see  had  anticipated 
them ;  but  too  much  of  my  sheet  is  now  filled,  to  leave 
any  space  for  apologies.  I  leave  you  to  make  them  for 
me.     I  am  rejoiced  at  your  intention  of  sending  a  paper 


200  MEMOIR    OF    JOUN    URQUHART. 

on  missions  to  the  Evangelical  Magazine.  It  has  a  most 
extensive  circulation.  My  conscience  has  been  sorely 
reproaching  me  for  mj  negligence  on  this  subject.  I  have 
been  partly  terrified  out  of  the  idea  of  attempting  publi- 
cation, from  the  decided  opposition  our  sentiments  on  this 
subject  have  met  with,  when  I  have  laid  them  before  those, 
whom  I  have,  from  infancy,  looked  up  to  as  men  mighty 
in  the  Scriptures.  Do  not  mistake  me ;  my  own  convic- 
tions are  by  no  means  w^eakened.  Every  prayer  deepens 
their  impression.  And  at  times  of  closer  communion  with 
God,  a  brighter  light  seems  to  be  shed  on  the  path  before 
me.  My  own  conscience  must  be  my  guide ;  but  I  have 
discovered  so  much  of  my  own  fickleness,  and  weakness 
of  mind,  that  I  do  fear  to  propose  my  sen'iments  as  rules 
of  conduct  to  others.  '  Instead  of  being  a  teacher,  I  have 
need  that  one  teach  me  what  are  the  first  principles  of  the 
oracles  of  Christ.'  I  have  only  begun  to  discover  my  real 
character ;  and  I  honestly  believe,  that  did  any  of  my 
friends  know  me  as  I  know  myself,  they  would  be  utterly 
disgusted  with  me,  and  scarcely  believe  me  a  Christian. 
But  what  has  this  to  do  with  the  subject  ?  —  Much.  When 
I  think  of  myself,  a  poor  weak-minded  boy,  —  the  crea- 
ture of  emotion,  and  almost  the  slave  of  circumstances, 
entertaining  opinions  difterent  from  all  my  friends  in 
Christ,  however  strongly  they  are  impressed  on  my  own 
mind,  I  have  great  misgivings  when  I  think  of  presenting 
them  to  others.  I  am  glad  to  have  one,  at  least,  who 
agrees  with  me.  Our  comparison  of  the  present  genera- 
tion in  our  land,  to  the  Jcavs  in  the  days  of  the  apostles, 
is  very  much  disliked.  The  supposition,  that  we  are  called 
to  imitate  the  apostles  in  going  to  the  Gentiles,  Mr.  E. 
thinks  quite  entjiusiastic.     I  like  your  plan  much.     It  is 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    UEQUHART.  201 

very  comprehensive.  I  hope  it  will  be  admitted,  but  I 
hardly  expect  it.  I  have  no  Christian  friends  here ;  but 
it  is  all  well.  I  am  forced  to  seek  closer  communion  with 
God.  Yes,  forced.  How  just  is  jour  idea  of  the  refuge, 
I  have  been,  at  times,  apt  to  murmur  at  being  sent  here ; 
but  I  am  sure  it  is  for  good.  I  have  seen  practically  illus- 
trated, that  man,  at  his  best  estate,  is  altogether  vanity. 
I  have  seen  more  of  the  wickedness  of  my  own  heart ; 
but  more  too  of  the  preciousness  and  sufficiency  of  the 
Saviour.  My  studies  have  all  a  bearing  on  the  Bible ; 
and,  I  think,  I  study  as  much  here  as  ever  I  have  done 
any  where." 

"August  10, 1826. 
"  My  very  Dear  Friend  —  I  am  really  ashamed  of 
not  writing  sooner ;  and  yet  it  has  not  been  for  want  of 
inclination.  I  have  been  waiting  for  an  opportunity  to 
send ;  and  I  write  this,  expecting  that  I  may  be  able  to 
send  it  by  Miss  Cathcart.  It  is  not  often  that  a  day  has 
passed  without  remembering  you  before  the  Lord.  Now 
that  I  have  no  Christian  friend  (indeed  no  friend  at  all) 
near  me,  I  find  it,  indeed,  a  delightful  exercise,  to  meet 
my  brethren  and  sisters  in  the  Lord  at  a  throne  of  grace. 
You  have  been  long  a  prisoner,  and  I  am  now  an  exile. 
Yes ;  I  am  indeed  banished  from  all  that  I  love  in  this 
world ;  and  I  sometimes  think  that  the  Lord  may  be  thus 
preparing  me  for  the  trials  of  the  missionary  life,  by 
debarring  me  the  privilege  of  Christian  intercourse.  I  am 
often  miicli  depressed;  and  this  convinces  me  that  I  have  not 
yet  given  my  whole  heart  to  God.  I  think  I  can  see  that 
I  have  been  sent  here  for  good.  The  Lord  often  leads  us 
into  the  wilderness;  to  speak  comfortably  to  us.     He  breaks 


202  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    UEQUHART. 

the  cisterns  we  have  hewed  out  for  ourselves,  to  lead  us 
to  the  life-giving  fountain.  It  is  perhaps  well  for  us,  when 
communion  with  God  is  our  only  enjoyment;  and  so  it  is 
with  me  from  necessity. 

''  I  was  glad  to  hear  that  you  had  had  some  little  respite, 
so  as  to  be  able  to  wait  upon  God  in  the  assembly  of  his 
people.  How  amiable  are  his  tabernacles  !  What  must 
heaven  be,  where  the  Sabbath  is  eternal,  and  the  temple 
is  the  Lord  himself!  —  'Yet  a  little  while,'  (in  your  case 
a  verif  little  while  at  the  longest),  '  and  he  that  shall  come, 
will  come,  and  will  not  tarry.' 

"I  have  been  reading  Samuel  Rutherford's  letters  of 
late,  and  have  been  much  delighted  with  them.  What 
advances  he  had  made  in  the  way  of  holiness  !  I  think, 
in  the  present  day,  Christians  are  apt  to  be  content  with 
too  little.  There  might  be  more  of  that  knowledge  of 
God  and  of  his  Son,  which  is  eternal  life,  —  even  in  this 
world,  if  we  would  but  seek  for  it  more  earnestly.  It  is 
not  enough  to  enter  the  strait  gate,  we  must  also  walk 
in  the  narrow  way.  Sanctification  is  part  of  our  salva- 
tion. And  hence  it  is,  that  our  most  gracious  Father 
sees  meet  to  visit  his  children  (as  you  can  testify)  with 
manifold  afflictions  and  temptations,  that  the  trial  of  their 
faith  being  much  more  precious  than  that  of  perishable 
gold,  might  be  found  unto  praise,  and  honour,  and  glory, 
at  the  appearance  of  Jesus  Christ.  I  doubt  not,  you  can 
testify  that  the  furnace  of  affliction  is  a  refining  surface. 

"  My  dear  friend,  I  should  value  a  letter  from  you  very 
much.  My  experience  in  the  Christian  life  amounts  to 
nothing  more  than  a  discovery  of  my  wretchedness,  and  a 
wish  for  something  better.  I  can  write  little  to  comfort 
you,  —  I  can  only  complain  of   short-coming.     My  own 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART.  203 

deadness  and  indifference,  often  make  me  doubt  whether 
I  have  yet  tasted  that  the  Lord  is  gracious.  I  know  not 
anything  so  calculated  to  confirm  and  strengthen  the  faith 
of  an  infant  Christian,  as  the  testimony  of  an  aged  saint, 
—  especially  an  aged  sufferer,  who  can  tell  that  all  the 
promises  of  God  are  yea,  and  amen.  It  is  true,  our  faith 
should  need  the  aid  of  no  auxiliary  evidence,  when  we 
have  the  promise,  — nay,  the  oath  of  Him  who  cannot  lie. 
But  it  does  need  it.  I  feel  my  faith  often  mingled  with 
distrust.  And  even  when  I  can  say  ^I  believe,'  I  have 
need  to  prefer  the  petition,  ^  Lord,  help  my  unbelief.'  If 
you  are  so  much  recovered,  as  I  have  some  reason  to  hope, 
from  what  I  have  heard,  perhaps  you  may  write  a  few 
lines  of  encouragement  to 

"  Your  most  affectionate  brother  in  the  Lord." 

"August  15,  1826. 
"  My  Dear  Friend  —  I  thank  you  for  your  kind  and 
undeserved  letter,  and  rejoice  to  hear  of  your  attempt  to 
illuminate  the  dark  places  of  our  own  land.  I  am  anxious 
to  hear  of  the  success  of  your  plans.  I  have  been  led  in 
the  very  consideration  of  the  missionary  question,  to 
regard  more  attentively  the  state  of  our  own  country  as 
to  religious  knowledge.  It  has  been  the  increasing  argu- 
ment of  my  friends,  against  my  intention  of  going  to  the 
heathen,  that  there  is  much  yet  to  be  done  at  home.  The 
force  of  this  argument,  I  feel  to  a  certain  extent  ;  but  I 
find  it  is  apt  to  be  urged  sometimes,  by  those  very  persons 
who  are  slumbering  on  as  if  nothing  were  to  be  done  at 
all.  There  is  much  to  be  done  at  home  ;  and  there  is  need 
for  very  vigorous  exertion.  There  are  many,  in  this 
nominally  Christian  country,  who  are  quite  ignorant  of 


204  MEMOIU    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

what  true  Christianity  is.  This  is,  indeed,  a  dreadful 
thought,  when  we  consider  how  many  true  Christians  are 
scattered  over  the  land.  Take  the  case  of  some  deadly 
bodily  disease,  (an  illustration  which  has  been  so  often 
put),  and  think  how  we  should  look  upon  him  who  could 
calmly  sit  still,  and  see  his  neighbour  or  his  townsman 
drop  into  the  jaws  of  death,  while  he  was  acquainted  with 
a  remedy,  whose  application,  experience  had  proved  to  be 
a  certain  cure.  Would  it  be  an  excuse  for  this  indiffer- 
ence, that  an  unaccountable  prejudice  existed  against  the 
remedy  in  question,  or  that  it  was  one  of  the  fearful 
symptoms  of  the  disorder,  that  the  unhappy  victim  im- 
agined himself  in  good  health  ?  Suppose  even  further, 
that  dispensaries  were  established  through  the  land,  where 
the  medicine  was  distributed  gratis,  to  all  who  chose  to 
apply.  (But,  alas  !  I  almost  had  forgot  that  in  order  to 
complete  the  analogy  here,  I  must  further  suppose,  that 
at  many,  nay  at  the  greater  number  of  these  dispensaries, 
a  counterfeit  drug  was  given  for  the  real  elixir.)  Would 
humanity  think  it  too  much,  in  such  circumstances,  to  walk 
from  one  scene  of  wretchedness  to  another,  and  earnestly 
recommend  to  the  unhappy  sufferers,  the  use  of  a  specific 
of  such  sovereign  virtue  ?  Is  it  true,  that  a  malady  is 
actually  raging  in  our  own  land,  —  in  our  own  town,  in 
our  own  neighbour's  house — it  may  be  in  our  own  family, 
—  a  malady  so  dreadful,  that  the  whole  sum  of  human 
wretchedness,  in  all  its  sad  forms  of  bodily  pain  or  mental 
anguish,  can  give  but  a  faint  idea  of  it,  and  is  indeed,  but 
one  of  its  least  fearful  consequences  ?  Is  it  true,  I  say, 
that  we  believe  such  a  fell  disorder  to  be  raging  at  our 
very  doors  ;  and  believe,  too,  that  we  have  discovered  a 
sovereign  antidote  to  its  baneful  influence,  and  yet  scarce 


MEMOIH    OF    JOHN    URQUHART.  205 

put  forth  a  finger  to  administer  the  halm  of  life  to  our 
fellow-sufferers  ?  I  do  think,  my  dear  sir,  that  private 
Christians  must  do  more  than  they  do,  if  they  would  stand 
clear  of  the  blood  of  those  wdio  perish  around  them. 
They  are  not  called  to  minister  in  public,  —  but  might 
they  not  do  much  in  preaching  the  Gospel  from  liouse  to 
house  ?  In  the  supposed  case  of  bodily  disease,  would  it 
be  an  excuse  for  indifference  or  neglect  on  the  part  of  any 
one  who  had  the  means  and  opportunity  of  usefulness, 
that  there  were  physicians  in  the  land,  whose  business  it 
was  to  attend  to  the  sick  ?  And  is  not  the  case  quite  par- 
allel ?  I  did  not  intend  to  fill  my  sheet  in  this  way ;  but 
when  I  get  into  a  subject,  I  often  find  it  difiicult  to  leave 
it.  I  forget  that  I  am  writing  a  letter,  and  not  an  essay. 
I  have  attempted  to  get  some  people  to  meet  w^ith  me 
here ;  but  there  is  no  village  quite  near,  and  it  being  har- 
vest, it  has  quite  failed  in  the  meantime ;  but  I  mean  to 
make  another  attempt  after  the  harvest  is  over.  I  am 
confined,  in  the  meantime,  to  private  visiting,  and  the 
distribution  of  tracts.  This,  I  think,  a  means  of  useful- 
ness, which  ought  to  be  neglected  by  none  who  w^ould  at- 
tend to  the  injunction,  —  '  In  the  morning  sow  thy  seed,' 
&c.  I  have  thought  a  good  deal  of  Ireland  of  late.  It 
has  strong  claims ;  still,  I  think  the  heathen  have  stronger.'* 

"August  16,  1826. 
"My  Dear  Friend  —  It  has  not  been  forgetfulness,  or 
want  of  inclination  that  has  kept  me  from  writing  sooner. 
I  have  often  thought  of  writing  ;  but  I  feel,  that  the  whole 
favour  of  this  correspondence  is  on  your  side,  for  I  have 
little  to  communicate  that  can  be  interesting  to  you.  My 
only  motive  for  troubling  you  with  a  postage,  would  hava 
18 


206  MEMOIR    or    JOHN    UR  QUIT  ART. 

been  tlie  hope  of  eliciting  a  letter  from  you  in  return  ;  and 
this,  I  thought  too  selfish  a  motive  to  allow  myself  to  be 
influenced  by  it.  But,  at  your  request,  I  will  write  to  you, 
as  the  desire  to  comply  with  this  will  be  a  sufficient 
apology  for  an    uninteresting  letter.      I   am   here   quite 

retired  from  the  world.     Colonel  M sees  very  little 

company,  and  even  with  that  little,  I  can  mix  as  little  as 
I  choose.  I  dine,  in  general^  with  my  pupil,  (at  my  own 
desire,)  and  spend  nearly  the  whole  day  in  my  study. 
This  state  of  seclusion  has  its  advantages  and  its  disad- 
vantages too.  There  is  much  time  for  the  study  of  one's 
own  heart,  and  for  the  contemplation  of  an  unseen  world. 
But  the  mind  is  apt  to  prey  too  much  on  itself.  There  is 
none  of  that  reciprocal  sympathy,  which  is  so  delightful ; 
which,  by  dividing  our  griefs,  can  almost  remove  our  sor- 
row ;  and,  by  partaking  our  happiness,  does  not  diminish 
but  multiplies  our  joy.  I  have  no  one  here  who  is  like- 
minded  with  me ;  and  in  these  circumstances,  my  spirits 
sometimes  sink  very  low.  I  know  this  is  very  sinful,  for 
God  is  here,  and  the  access  to  his  throne  is  here  as  free  as 
in  the  bosom  of  Christian  society.  This,  indeed,  is  my 
only  enjoyment ; 

"  '  That  were  a  grief  I  could  not  bear, 
Didst  thou  not  hear  and  answer  prayer; 
But  a  pra3'er-hearing,  answering  God, 
Supports  me  under  every  load.' 

*'  Sometimes  when  I  enjoy  a  nearer  approach  to  God,  I 
can,  indeed,  feel  that  the  loss  of  Christian  fellowship  is 
more  than  made  up ;  but,  in  seasons  of  coldness  and  indif- 
ference, there  is  none  to  stir  me  up,  and  nothhig  that  can 
give  comfort.     But  it  is  well  that  it  is  so.     It  is  well  to  be 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART.  207 

compelled  to  have  continual  recourse  to  a  throne  of  grace. 
How  sinful  for  a  Christian  ever  to  think  of  despondency, 
with  such  glorious  hopes,  and  such  precious  promises  to 
encourage  him.  But  sin  will  damp  the  most  glorious 
hopes,  and  unbelief  will  render  unavailing  the  most  pre- 
cious promises.  Perfect  happiness  can  be  attained  only 
by  the  attainment  of  perfect  holiness:  while  sin  wars  in 
the  members,  there  must  be  a  want  of  enjoyment.  I  feel 
that  it  is  sin  which  separates  between  my  soul  and  God. 
I  am  sometimes  discouraged  to  think  that  I  have  now- 
seemed  to  myself  a  believer  for  a  considerable  time,  and 
yet  I  look  in  vain  for  a  progress  in  holiness  and  likeness 
to  God  If  I  have  advanced  at  all,  it  has  been  in  the  dis- 
covery of  my  own  utter  worthlessness.  I  do  feel  more 
than  ever,  that  I  am  poor,  and  miserable,  and  wretched, 
and  blind,  and  naked.  0  that  the  Lord  would  discover 
to  me  more  abundantly  the  riches  of  his  grace,  and  let  me 
feel  more  the  presence  of  that  Comforter,  who  is  assuredly 
with  me,  if  I  have  not  received  the  grace  of  God  in  vain. 
"  I  have  few  opportunities  of  usefulness  here ;  and  this 
is  sometimes  a  cause  of  sinful  discouragement.  I  attempted 
a  meeting,  which  failed,  owing  to  the  hurry  of  the  harvest ! 
I  have  visited  most  of  the  cottages  near,  and  distributed 
tracts,  in  which  employment  my  little  pupil  is  very  willina* 
to  assist  me.  I  have  discovered  one  house  of  mournino- 
a  family  that  has  been  much  afflicted  ;  there  is  a  willing- 
ness to  listen  to  divine  things,  I  went  with  a  person  last 
Sabbath,  who  preached  on  an  outside  stair,  in  one  of  the 
lanes  of  Glasgow.  I  confess  that  it  was  not  without 
tren;ibling,  and  some  degree  of  reluctance,  that  I  consented 
to  conclude  the  service  by  prayer.  The  people  who 
gathered  around  us,  I  am  convinced,  cannot  be  reached 


208  MEMOIE    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

in  any  other  way.  0 !  to  be  willing  to  be  accounted  the 
oif-scouring  of  all  things  for  Christ's  sake.  I  have  seen 
Mr.  Burnet,  and  have  promised  to  take  Ireland  into  con- 
sideration, in  making  up  my  mind  as  to  the  course  of  life  by 
which  I  can  most  glorify  God.  I  still  feel  the  claims  of 
the  heathen  to  be  the  strongest,  although  some  very  highly 
respected  friends  here,  think  I  might  be  more  useful  at 
home.    I  trust  my  only  wish  is,  to  know  the  will  of  God." 

The  following  extracts  are  from  various  letters,  written 
to  his  friend,  'William  Scott  Moncrieif,  in  the  months  of 
July  and  August. 

"  From  what  you  say  of  your  friend,  I  suppose  he  has 

made  an  engagement  with  Mr.  G .     I  trust  it  will  turn 

out  for  the  mutual  benefit  of  himself  and  his  pupils ;  indeed, 
why  should  I  say,  I  trust  ?  (which  is  always  an  expression 
of  some  degree  of  distrust ;)  we  know  that  all  things  work 
together  for  the  good  of  them  that  love  God.  I  rejoice  to 
hear  of  your  intended  return  to  St.  Andrew's  ;  you  must 
stir  up  the  embers  of  the  flame  that  has  been  kindled. 
There  is  much  to  be  done,  my  dear  friend,  everywhere ; 
and  1  think  every  Christian,  however  obscure,  must  feel  in 
some  degree  Avith  the  apostle,  that  there  is  a  woe  pro- 
nounced against  him,  if  he  publish  not  the  joyful  intelli- 
gence with  which  heaven  has  favoured  him.  It  is  well 
that  death  should  sometimes  deprive  us  of  a  familiar  ac- 
quaintance, or  a  dear  relative ;  for  the  death  of  thousands 
whom  we  have  never  seen,  or  at  least  never  known,  has 
been  scarcely  sufficient  to  prove  to  us,  that  we  may  die ; 
and  all  the  warnings  we  receive  fail  of  practically  con- 
vincing ua  that  wc  must.     How  difficult  to  conceive  the 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART.  209 

true  ratio  of  the  finite  to  tlie  infinite,  of  this  brief  life  to 
that  never-ending  existence  into  which  it  ushers  us  !  And, 
if  difficult  to  conceive,  0,  how  difficult  practically  to  feel 
it !  There  is  something  delightfully  pleasing  in  the  '  little 
while'  (ocrov  otfov)  of  the  New  Testament,  if  we  are  waiting 
for  our  Lord ;  but,  if  careless  and  indifferent,  or  afraid  of  his 
coming,  how  alarming  the  idea,  that  '  the  Lord  is  at  hand!* 
Let  us  gird  up  the  loins  of  our  mind.  Let  us  devote  all 
our  time  to  the  service  of  our  Master ;  '  now  is  our  salva- 
tion nearer,  than  when  we  believed.'  Our  friends  are 
parting  from  us  on  every  side,  and  we  are  scattered  over 
the  wide  world.  It  is  all  well ;  '  this  is  not  your  rest.' 
Let  our  hopes  rest  on  nothing  short  of  heaven.  It  is  true, 
that  the  communion  of  the  saints  on  earth  resembles  the 
intercourse  of  just  men  made  perfect ;  but  0,  what  a  re- 
semblance !  How  unlike  these  grovelling  souls  to  the 
spirits  around  the  throne  !  And  these  corruptible  bodies, 
how  vile  compared  with  those  immortal  forms,  which  shall 
be  fashioned  like  the  glorious  body  of  the  omnipotent  Sove- 
reiirn  of  the  universe  !  And  even  our  communion  with 
God  here,  how  distant,  how  much  interrupted  by  sin,  or 
obscured  by  unbelief!  How  few,  and  far  between  the 
visits  of  our  Saviour's  love,  when  we  think  of  that  place 
where  they  'cease  not  day  and  night  to  praise  him;'  and 
where  they  have  no  need  of  a  temple,  for  '  the  Lord  God 
and  the  Lamb  are  the  temple  thereof.'  Let  us  hold  fast 
our  confidence,  and  run  with  patience,  looking  unto  Jesus  ; 
and,  ere  a  few  more  years  have  rolled  over  us,  we  shall 
join  that  'multitude  which  no  man  can  number.' 

"  You  could  not  have  sent  me  anything  more  appropri- 
ate than  Stewart's  Discourses  on  the  Advent.     You  know 
me  too  well  to  need  to  be  told  how  I  felt  when  separated 
18* 


210  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

from  you  all,  and  without  a  single  individual  to  whom  I 
could  speak  with  freedom  on  the  subjects  nearest  my  heart. 
Mr.  Stewart's  book  I  have  found  a  delightful  companion. 
If  I  can  guess  at  his  peculiar  views  of  the  Redeemer's 
advent,  through  the  veil  of  modesty  which  almost  conceals 
them,  I  am  scarcely  prepared  entirely  to  agree  w^ith  him. 
I  have  been  so  accustomed  to  dwell  with  pleasure  on  those 
brighter  times  to  which  prophecy  seems  to  point,  that  the 
bare  possibility  that  the  Lord  may  come  to-day,  or  to-mor- 
row, seems  to  blast  all  these  delightful  hopes ;  '  a  multi- 
tude, which  no  man  can  number,  must  first  be  gathered 
out  of  every  tribe,  and  kindred.'  Still,  as  Mr.  Stewart 
observes,  this  may  be  very  soon  accomplished.  Oh,  that 
we  may  be  looking  for,  and  hastening  on,  the  coming  of 
the  day  of  God  ! 

"  I  have  a  great  dislike  to  writing  letters,  but  nothing 
gives  me  greater  pleasure  than  to  receive  them.  I  guess 
that  this  is  pretty  nearly  the  case  with  some  of  my  friends, 
and  therefore  a  consideration  of  the  golden  rule  should 
lead  me  to  like  the  task  of  letter-writing  better.  I  am 
most  particularly  anxious  to  hear  from  my  friends,  since 
I  came  to  this  solitary  place  ;  and  a  friendly  letter,  always 
pleasing,  will  now  be  doubly  sweet.  The  words,  and  the 
looks  of  friendship  I  cannot  now  enjoy.  Its  written  com- 
munications are  all  that  are  left  to  me.  How  unthankful 
we  are  ever  apt  to  be  !  What  a  privilege  is  it  that  we  can 
convey  our  thoughts  to  an  absent  friend !  Without  the 
noble  invention  of  writing,  a  few  miles  would  separate  us 
more  effectually  from  our  friends,  than  half  the  circum- 
ference of  the  globe  can,  possessed  as  we  are  of  this  won- 
derful medium  of  intercourse.  But,  after  all,  epistolary 
correspondence  is  but  a  poor  substitute  for  personal  inter- 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART.  211 

course.  We  have  symbols  to  express  our  thoughts,  but 
we  have  no  written  characters  that  can  express  that  pecu- 
liar vividness  of  impression,  or  tenderness  of  feeling  which 
is  conveyed  by  the  eye,  the  features,  and  the  very  tone  of 
voice  of  a  present  friend.  The  words  of  a  letter  are  in 
some  respects  dead,  like  the  characters  that  represent 
them,  while  the  words  of  the  friend  with  whom  we  con- 
verse, and  even  the  ideas,  which  these  words  express, 
seem  to  borrow  life  and  loveliness  from  the  lips  and  coun- 
tenance that  ffive  them  utterance.  I  have  been  writing 
several  other  letters  to-day ;  and  I  believe  that,  in  all  of 
them,  I  have  been  mourning  over  the  loss  of  friends,  and 
lingering  on  the  recollections  of  other  days.  And  yet  I 
feel  that  it  is  wrong  to  do  so.  This  is  a  world  of  change ; 
and,  if  our  affections  are  set  on  any,  even  the  worthiest 
of  the  objects  that  flit  before  us,  our  happiness  will  be  but 
short-lived.  If  we  be  risen  with  Christ,  let  us  set  our 
affections  on  things  above.  If  we  would  faithfully  serve 
our  Master,  we  must  not  look  for  a  life  of  ease  here,  or 
even  of  enjoyment;  we  must  '  endui-e  hardness  as  good 
soldiers  of  Jesus  Christ.'  I  do  little  else  than  study,  and 
walk  with  my  pupil,  who  is  a  very  interesting  boy.  I 
have  only  been  to  ride  once ;  I  went  to  call  with  Colonel 

M at  Lord  Douglas's,  but  my  horse  ran  off  with  me 

three  several  times  ;  I  was  very  thankful  to  have  escaped 
safe,  and  have  not  thought  it  prudent  to  risk  my  life  in 

such  circumstances  since.     Colonel  M promises  to 

get  a  pony,  which  I  can  ride,  soon.  Let  it  be  our  great 
object  in  our  letters  to  provoke  each  other  to  love  and  to 
good  works ;  for  all  is  trifling,  that  does  not  bear  directly 
or  indirectly  on  eternity." 


212  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

"  I  relish  my  solitude  much  better  than  I  did.  I  am 
utterly  confounded  to  think  of  the  unnumbered  mercies 
the  Lord  has  heaped  upon  me,  and  on  the  discontented 
ungrateful  feelings,  I  have  often  indulged.  I  have  had  a 
long  walk  this  evening,  visiting  from  cottage  to  cottage, 
with  the  view  of  collecting  a  few  young  people  to  form  a 
weekly  meeting.  Great  backwardness  is  manifested ;  and 
I  have  but  faint  hopes  of  its  succeeding.  I  regret  that  I 
had  so  little  Christian  intercourse  with  you,  and  my  other 
friends,  in  Edinburgh.  I  find  that  the  bustle  of  travel- 
lino-,  and  the  excitement  of  new  scenes  and  new  circum- 
stances,  have  a  strong  tendency  to  destroy  spirituality 
of  mind." 

A  letter  from  his  friend  C,  appears  to  have  contained 
some  intimations  of  a  very  afflicting  and  painful  nature, 
respecting  the  workings  of  his  mind.  It  produced  the 
long  letter,  which  follows  : 

*'  My  ever  Dear  C.  —  Your  last  letter  was,  indeed,  a 
most  overwhelming  letter,  and  did  I  really  know  any 
remedy  for  your  mental  distress,  it  were  indeed  cruel  to 
have  delayed  so  long  to  administer  it.  But  I  have  been 
perplexed  and  confounded.  I  have  resolved  to  write  and 
yet  tremble  to  take  up  my  pen.  I  have  delayed  thus  long, 
to  meditate  and  to  pray.  When  the  spirit  of  my  friend 
was  wounded,  —  so  severely  wounded,  I  feared  to  take  the 
knife  into  my  own  unskilful  hand ;  and  it  seemed  to  me 
w^isest  to  apply  to  the  great  Physician  of  the  soul.  The 
more  I  have  thought  of  your  case,  the  more  I  feel  that  it 
is  beyond  the  power  of  human  relief.  I  have  done  all  I 
can.     I  have  entreated  Him,  who  alone  can  bind  up  the 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUIIART.  213 

broken  spirit,  to  send  relief.  He  knows,  from  dread  ex- 
perience, the  depths  of  temptation ;  he  has  experienced 
the  horrors  of  an  hour,  when  God  seemed  to  have  forsaken 
him,  and  the  power  of  darkness  appeared  to  rage  trium- 
phant. I  Avrite  in  the  full  hope,  that  ere  now,  your  dark- 
ness has  been  dispelled  by  light  from  above  ;  for  it  is  light 
from  Heaven  alone,  which  can  dispel  such  darkness.  You 
see,  I  have  taken  a  large  sheet  of  paper  at  your  request ; 
but  it  is  only  because  of  that  request :  for  really,  I  can 
pretend  to  give  no  consolation.  I  can  only  direct  you  to 
a  higher  source ;  but  I  can  do  so  with  the  fullest  confi- 
dence, that  there  yoit  will  assuredly  find  it, 

"■  The  metaphysics  of  natural  religion  I  have  studied 
but  little ;  but  if  I  can  judge  from  that  little,  it  seems  to 
me,  that  the  pretended  demonstrations  of  the  immortality 
of  the  soul,  and  the  moral  attributes  of  God,  are  little 
better  than  proofs  how  profoundly  and  ingeniously  man 
can  trifle.  Much  solid  argument  may  be  expended  in  the 
investigation,  and  many  an  ingenious  method  of  argumen- 
tation discovered.  We  may  have  logically  refuted,  or 
appeared  to  refute,  the  objections  of  an  opponent;  but  when 
we  come  to  retrace  all  the  steps,  we  find  that  no  lasting 
impression  is  produced,  —  nothing  satisfactory  attained. 
Such  discussions  seem  to  me,  to  end  in  nothing  more  than 
the  ingenious  and  well-calculated  moves  in  a  game  of  chess. 
We  have  had  some  intellectual  amusement ;  and  perhaps, 
too,  we  may  have  won  the  game,  —  but  that  is  all.  I  have 
lately  read  the  third  volume  of  a  novel  called  Tremaine, 
where  the  arguments  of  Clark,  &c.  seem  to  me  well  con- 
densed, and  convincingly  stated ;  but  the  above  was  my 
impression  on  perusing  them.  By  the  way,  the  above  is 
no  ordinary  novel ;  it  is  well  worth  a  reading.     The  clear, 


214  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

the  acute,  the  matchless  Brown,  seems,  on  this  subject,  a 
trifler.  Indeed,  the  dark  cloud  of  mystery  which  veils 
the  spiritual  world,  gives  us  a  liberty  to  imagine  of  it  what 
we  please,  and  a  little  ingenuity  is  all  that  is  necessary  to 
seem  to  prove,  what  we  imagine,  in  a  region  wholly  un- 
known. The  more  we  think,  the  more  we  are  persuaded 
of  the  reality  of  our  own  fancies,  as  when  we  gaze  on  the 
shapeless  masses  of  coal  in  a  fire,  or  on  the  clouds  of  a 
confused  sky,  our  imagination  can  picture  forth  the  out- 
lines of  animals,  or  castles,  or  forests,  or  any  tiling,  which 
seem  to  grow  more  and  more  distinct  the  longer  we  gaze. 
But  where  have  I  wandered  to  ?  I  might  have  told  you 
in  one  little  sentence,  that  I  have  felt  these  metaphysical 
reasonings  to  be  as  unsatisfactory  as  you  do,  who  have 
dived  deeper  into  their  profundities.  Let  me  say,  how- 
ever, before  leaving  this  tantalizing  subject,  that  I  do 
think  the  existeyice,  (and  if  the  existence,  of  course  the 
natural  attributes  of  God),  abundantly  proved  by  the  ob- 
jects around  us.  For  this.  Dr.  Brown  says,  and  I  think 
truly,  that  we  have  not  to  search  far  amid  the  mysteries 
of  nature,  to  find  proofs ;  far  less  to  tread  the  labyrinths 
of  a  priori  argumentation.  He  who  sees  not  a  Deity  in 
the  marks  and  designs  displayed  in  his  own  body,  or  in 
many  of  the  most  familiar  objects  around  him,  will  not  be 
convinced  by  demonstration  itself. 

"  To  leave  this  then,  —  How  delightful  the  facts  of  the 
gospel  and  the  well-accredited  testimony  of  an  eye-witness 
from  the  world  of  spirits  !  But  I  know  the  dreadful  sub- 
ject, which  is  the  cause  (shall  I  say,  which  ivas  the  cause) 
of  your  doubts  and  your  distress.  Millions  created  for  a 
moment's  giddy  pleasure,  —  and  then  an  eternity  of  un- 
mingled  wretchedness.     Ah,  my  friend,  the  argument  has 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUnART.  215 

struck  my  mind  too  with  overwhelming  force ;  and  its 
stroke  has  cut  the  deeper,  edged,  as  it  has  been  in  my 
case,  (I  believe  in  yours  too),  with  the  poignant  reflection, 
that  some  whom  I  hold  dearest  '  according  to  the  fleshy* 
seem,  at  present,  to  be  walking  on  to  the  gulf  of  eternal 
perdition.  But  why  should  I  introduce  this  here  ?  You 
can  sympathize  with  me.  Oh,  if  there  is  ever  a  time  that 
this  proud  heart  can  think  w^ith  real  delight  of  its  own 
insignificance  and  ignorance, — it  is,  when  oppressed  by 
this  awfully  mysterious  subject.  When  my  mind  has  been 
darkened  by  presumptuous  thoughts  regarding  the  justice 
and  mercy  of  the  Eternal,  the  feeble  ray  of  a  single  twink- 
ling star  has  seemed  like  a  ray  of  hope  ;  and  the  concep- 
tion of  myriads  of  such  worlds,  or  clusters  of  worlds,  if 
it  has  not  dispelled  the  darkness  of  the  soul,  has  at  least 
given  the  certain  expectation,  that  soon  it  will  he  dis- 
pelled. What  are  we,  that  we  should  fathom  the  counsels 
of  the  eternal  and  omnipotent  Jehovah  ?  '  Who  art  thou, 
0  man,  that  repliest  against  God  V  Has  not  God  reveal- 
ed to  us  enough,  to  warrant  this  trial  of  our  faith,  espe- 
cially when  the  express  assurance  is  given,  that  a  time  is 
coming,  when  we  shall  ^  know  as  we  are  known  V 

^ 'After  writing  this  long  letter,  I  am  almost  ashamed 
of  it.  I  have  written,  as  if  I  were  combating  the  argu- 
ments of  an  infidel,  instead  of  attempting  to  console  a 
Christian  brother,  whom  the  adversary  has  been  permitted 
to  attack.  It  would,  indeed,  be  cruel  to  heal  up  a  canker- 
ing wound,  ere  it  had  been  probed  to  the  very  bottom ; 
but  I  think  I  am  not  guilty  of  this,  when  I  say,  that  even 
in  that  most  dismal  letter,  there  are  the  proofs  of  a  regen- 
erated soul.  Peter  was  given  up  to  the  temptations  of 
Satan,  that  he  might  be  shown  his  own  weakness.     Some 


216  MEMOIU    OF    JOHN    TTRQUHART.  j 

of  the  most  eminent  servants  of  God  have  been  left  to  | 
wander  even  into  the  dreary  regions  of  atheism  for  a  w^hile, 
as  if  to  show  their  own  depravity,  when  unassisted  by 
divine  grace.  0  do  not  talk  of  the  unwilling  rejection 
of  a  God  !  All  atheists  are  wilful  atheists.  This,  I  must 
believe,  while  I  believe  the  Bible.  God  has  had  some  end 
in  view,  my  dear  friend,  in  giving  you  up  to  these  dread- 
ful thoughts.  I  trust  he  will  bring  good  out  of  seeming 
evil,  and  that  this  severe  trial  will  lead  you  to  lie  more 
humbly  at  the  foot  of  the  cross,  and  to  put  less  confidence 
than  ever  in  the  speculations  of  a  bewildering  philosophy. 
Excuse  —  no,  I  will  not  say  excuse,  I  have  spoken  with  the 
freedom  of  Christian  love.  I  have  not  half  answered  your 
letter,  and  yet  my  paper  is  quite  full. 

"  Remember  me  to  our  dear  Nesbit,  if  he  is  still  with    ; 
you.     The  same  post  that  brought  your  last,  gave  me  the    I 
delightful  news   of  another  added  to   our  little  band  of    ' 
Christian  missionaries,  our  much  respected  Rentoul.      I 
Lave  had  a  letter  to-day  from  John  Adam,  making  the    | 
very   solemn   proposal    of  joining   him,    in   a   mission   to    ' 
Madras,  to  leave  this  country  in  two  years.     Pray  for  my 
direction.      We  return  to  Dysart  in  the  middle  of  next    j 
month,  to  be  there  for  some  time.     I  am  glad  of  this,  for    ' 
here  I  am  alone  as  to  Christian  intercourse.     If  I  were 
actively  employed  in  the  service  of  the  Lord,  I  think  I    i 
could  be  happy  in  a  desert ;  but  here  I  do  little  or  nothing.    : 
In  study,  I  have  done  a  little ;  I  have  read  the  first  book 
of  Samuel  in  Hebrew;   three  books  of  the  Anabasis  of 
Xenophon,  which  seems  to  throw  some  light  on  the  style 
of  the  New  Testament.      In  Theology,   I  have  studied  - 
Paley's  Evidences  pretty  carefully,  and  Bishop  Lowth's     1 
Prelections.     I   have   nearly   finished    Dr.   Pye    Smith's     ; 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART.  217 

Scripture  Testimony  to  the  Messiah  (a  most  interesting 
work,  which  I  beg  earnestly  to  recommend  to  your  perusal), 
and  have  just  commenced  Mosheim's  Church  History. 
It  is  late,  but  I  can  scarcely  give  over  writing." 

His  friend,  Mr.  Herbert  Smith,  having  proposed  to  him 
to  assist,  and  co-operate  with  him,  in  some  plans  of  use- 
fulness which  he  was  pursuing,  it  produced  the  following 
letter  in  reply :  — 

"Tennoch  Side,  August  30,  1820. 
"My  Dear  Friend  —  If  I  have  delayed  a  few  days  in 
answering  your  very  interesting  letter,  you  can  easily  guess 
the  reason.  Your  proposal  demanded  consideration  and 
prayer.  Did  I  make  my  own  feelings  the  standard  of  my 
conduct,  I  should,  in  all  probability,  without  hesitation, 
have  answered  your  kind  proposal  with  a  hearty  affirma- 
tive. Two  circumstances,  in  my  present  situation,  have 
contributed  not  a  little  to  depress  my  spirits,  the  want  of 
Christian  society,  and  an  exclusion  from  active  exertion 
in  the  cause  of  the  gospel.  You  can  conceive  then,  how 
delightful  to  my  imagination  was  the  picture  of  a  truly 
Christian  companion,  co-operating  with  me  in  acts  of  evan- 
gelical usefulness,  and  exciting  me  to  more  zealous  exer- 
tion. Were  inclination  my  guide,  then,  you  see  how 
gladly  I  should  have  embraced  your  kind  offer.  But  this 
would  have  been  wrong.  In  forming  any  plan,  we  must 
not  calculate  on  our  own  enjoyment  merely.  The  Chris- 
tian must  look  to  higher  objects.  His  question  must  be. 
'  Lord,  what  wilt  tliou  have  me  to  do  ?'  On  considering 
the  matter,  therefore,  in  this  light,  I  feel  constrained,  (in 
spite  of  my  own  longings  to  comply,)  for  the  p-esent  at 
19 


218  ME  MOTE    OF    JOHN    UEQTJIIAET. 

least^  to  decline  'personally  co-operating  In  your  Interesting 
scheme.  The  difference  of  our  religious  sentiments,  in  a 
few  points^  has  not  influenced  me  in  the  slightest  degree 
in  my  decision,  except  in  the  single  point  that  it  occurred 
to  me,  that  the  fact  not  of  my  heing^  but  of  my  being  called 
a  Dissenter,  might  probably  impede,  more  than  your  liber- 
ality may  allow  you  to  suspect,  the  promotion  of  a  plan, 
which,  from  its  very  nature,  must  depend  a  good  deal  for 
its  success,  on  the  co-operation  of  churchmen  of  all  descrip- 
tions. Had  I  thought  of  accepting,  this  must  have  made 
me  hesitate ;  but  as  it  is,  other  reasons  have  determined 
my  opinion,  that  it  is  my  duty  to  remain  in  Scotland  for 
some  little  time. 

"  There  is  a  sort  of  understanding,  (although  no  positive 
agreement,)  that  I  remain  in  Colonel  Morland's  family  for 
a  year.  I  have  now  been  nearly  four  months.  Here  I 
have  only  one  pupil ;  and,  of  course,  much  time  for  study, 
which  I  think  invaluable,  as  I  know  not  how  soon  my 
opportunities  of  study  may  be  past.  I  am  particularly 
anxious  to  study  closely  the  original  Scriptures,  in  case 
of  being  employed  in  the  very  responsible  Avork  of  trans- 
lation. This  reconciles  me  to  a  retirement  from  active 
exertion  in  the  meantime,  although  even  in  that  point,  I 
hope  to  be  able  to  do  a  little  in  the  neighbouring  cottages. 
I  should  feel  it  cowardly  to  fly  from  a  station  where  God 
has  placed  me  in  his  providence,  perhaps  from  some 
gracious  purpose,  merely  because  it  deprives  me  of  some 
pleasures,  for  which  the  Lord  himself  knows  well  how  to 
compensate.  The  soldier  in  the  camp  must  not  murmur, 
because  he  wants  the  comforts  of  domestic  happiness.  To 
all  human  appearance,  indeed,  there  is  little  prospect  of 


MEMOIR    or    JOnN    URQUIIART.  219 

my  doing  anything  here,  to  promote  the  knowledge  of  the 
truth,  except  through  my  pupiL 

"  On  the  subject  of  missions,  every  prayer  strengthens 
my  purpose.  I  am  aware  of  the  glare  of  romance,  which 
fancy  may  throw  round  the  idea  of  Christian  expeditions 
to  foreign  lands ;  but  I  have  tried  to  make  due  allowance 
for  this,  and  have  prayed  that  a  youthful  imagination 
might  not  lead  me  astray.  The  result  is,  I  am  every  day 
more  and  more  convinced,  that  my  convictions  in  regard 
to  this  matter,  are  founded  on  Scripture.  It  is  impossible, 
w^ithin  the  liinits  of  a  single  sheet,  to  state  the  grounds  of 
these  convictions.  I  have  written  something  on  the  sub- 
ject, which  I  may,  perhaps,  have  some  opportunity  of 
communicating  to  you  in  one  shape  or  other.  I  have  taken 
medical  advice,  and  am  told,  that  my  constitution  is  more 
likely  to  stand  in  a  warm  climate,  than  if  it  w^ere  more 
robust ;  but  no  definite  opinion  can  be  given  on  the  subject. 
The  same  post  which  brought  yours,  brought  a  letter  from 
our  friend  John  Adam,  announcing  his  intention  of  going 
to  Madras  in  two  years,  and  asking  me  to  accompany  him. 
This  is  at  present  under  consideration,  and  my  decision 
may  aifect  my  more  immediate  plans.  My  present  plans 
are,  if  the  Lord  will,  to  remain  here  till  May  or  June  next 
year,  and  then  pay  a  farewell  visit  to  my  dear  relations, 
before  leaving  them  for  ever  in  this  life.  It  is  a  long  time 
to  look  forward  to  next  summer  ;  but  should  you  continue 
where  you  are,  and  think  I  could  at  all  assist  you,  I  may 
then,  by  the  divine  blessing  on  my  studies,  be  able  to  give 
more  efficient  assistance  for  a  month  or  two.  In  the 
meantime,  I  shall  pray  for  your  success,  and  perhaps  you 
will  have  the  kindness  to  let  me  hear  soon  how  matters 
prosper." 


220  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHAHT. 

^  Various  friends  interested  in  the  religious  welfare  of 
Ireland,  having  requested  him  to  take  its  claims  on  him- 
self into  consideration,  he  wrote  the  following  letter  to  the 
Rev.  John  Burnet,  of  Cork,  which  I  insert,  not  only  as  a 
part  of  his  history,  but  to  show  the  comprehensive  views 
he  could  take  of  a  subject,  and  how  deeply  he  interested 
himself  in  everything  which  related  to  the  kingdom  of 
Christ :  — 

*'  Tennoch  Side. 
''  My  Dear  Sir  —  I  have  had  but  a  short  notice  of  this 
opportunity  of  sending.     The  following  are  the  queries  that 
occur  to  me  at  the  moment :  — 

"1.  What  is  the  proportion  of  professed  Protestants  to 
Roman  Catholics  ;  and  what  the  state  of  religious  know- 
ledge and  practice  among  the  former  ? 

"  2.  What  the  proportion  of  evangelical  ministers  in  the 
Church  of  Ireland  ? 

"  3.  What  the  number  and  character  of  Protestant  Dis- 
senting ministers  ?     I  include  Presbyterians  of  course. 

"4.  Are  any  Itinerancies  undertaken  by  resident  Irish 
ministers,  and  to  what  extent  ? 

"  5.  What  is  the  number  and  character  of  the  Hibernian 
Society's  Agents  ?  Are  the  readers  also  preachers,  or  are 
they  all  pious  men  ?  Of  course,  you  understand  me  to 
mean,  as  far  as  our  imperfect  judgment  can  decide. 

"  6.  What  is  the  number  of  the  Hibernian  Society's 
schools,  and  how  taught  ?  Are  the  schoolmasters  under- 
stood to  be  pious  men  ?  Is  religious  instruction  the  pro- 
fessed object  of  these  schools,  or  only  common  education  ? 
"  7.  Does  the  Hibernian  Society  support  any  preachers  ; 
and  if  so,  how  many  ?  Are  the  two  you  mentioned,  their 
agents  ? 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    UEQUHART.  221 

"  8.  Do  the  people  manifest  a  willingness  to  hear  ? 
And  can  you  allude,  in  general  terms,  to  the  success  that 
has  attended  the  efforts  already  made  ? 

"  These  queries  will,  at  least,  show  you,  my  dear  sir, 
how  ignorant,  perhaps  how  criminally  ignorant  I  am,  of 
the  state  of  the  interesting  country  in  which  you  labour. 
I  could  multiply  more  inquiries,  of  a  similar  description ; 
but  I  think,  under  these,  you  may  arrange  any  informa- 
tion your  time  may  permit  you  to  communicate.  If  any- 
thing else  should  be  suggested  by  these,  and  your  engage- 
ments permit,  you  will  have  the  goodness  to  mention  it. 
I  should  be  glad  to  hear  arguments  too,  if  any  particularly 
present  themselves.  I  promise  solemnly  to  consider  the 
matter  before  the  Lord,  and  to  lay  it  before  such  of  my 
companions,  as  I  think,  might  be  fitted  for  the  work.  In 
the  meantime,  I  honestly  acknowledge  to  you,  that  I  feel 
the  claims  of  other  parts  of  the  world  to  be  stronger.  I 
trust  my  only  wish  is  to  know  the  will  of  God  in  this  mat- 
ter. I  feel  my  ignorance  and  incapacity  to  judge,  but  he 
leadeth  the  blind  by  a  way  they  know  not.  When  you 
see  Captain  Felix,  have  the  kindness  to  give  him  my  re- 
spects. Excuse  this  very  humed  letter,  as  it  gets  late. 
The  Lord  bless  you  in  your  labours." 

While  this  letter  sho\fs  his  willingness  to  submit  to 
whatever  might  appear  to  be  the  will  of  God  in  regard  to 
the  field  of  labour ;  it  still  discovers  how  much  his  heart 
was  set  upon  the  great  object  to  which  his  life  had  been 
devoted.  In  the  letter  which  follows,  to  Mr.  Adam,  he 
gives  full  scope  to  his  feelings,  and  refers  again  to  the 
difficulty  of  obtaining  the  consent  of  his  friends. 
19* 


222  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

"  DrsART  House,  September  17,  1826. 

"My  very  Dear  John  —  I  dare  say  you  expected  an 
answer  to  your  interesting  letter  long  ere  now,  and  have 
been  attributing  my  silence  to  my  wonted  carelessness. 
But  in  truth,  this  is  not  the  case.  I  was  cheered  with  the 
prospect  of  a  short  visit  to  Perth,  soon  after  receiving 
yours,  and  I  thought  it  better  to  defer  writing  till  I  should 
know  the  mind  of  my  friends  concerning  your  very  import- 
ant proposal.  My  own  opinion,  excepting  in  so  far  as 
that  of  my  friends  and  other  circumstances  might  affect  it, 
was  fixed  almost  as  soon  as  I  read  your  letter.  With  a 
deep  and  increasing  conviction  of  the  duty  of  going  to  the 
heathen,  and  with  a  strong  impression  of  the  advantage, 
and  in  my  case,  almost  the  necessity  of  a  known  and  tried 
companion ;  this  latter  circumstance,  seemed  to  me  of 
itself,  sufficient  to  turn  my  attention  to  a  portion  of  the 
missionary  field,  of  which,  I  confess,  I  had  never  before 
seriously  thought.  The  language  of  Ruth  to  Naomi,  is 
the  sincere  expression  of  my  feelings,  when  I  read  your 
proposal.  But  notwithstanding  this,  I  do  not  yet  feel 
quite  at  liberty  to  seal  the  contract,  as  you  express  it. 

"  On  consulting  my  friends  I  was  astonished  to  find 
them  even  more  opposed  than  before.  There  seemed  to 
be  even  some  disappointment,  that  I  had  not,  by  this 
time  abandoned  the  idea  of  being  a  missionary  altogether. 
Had  the  impulse  on  my  mind  been  a  mere  boyish  fancy, 
in  all  probability,  this  would  have  been  the  case,  exposed 
as  I  have  been  to  influences  altogether  unfavourable.  But 
I  trust  there  is  no  enthusiasm  in  supposing,  that  the  im- 
pression has  been  made  by  the  Spirit  of  God,  when  time 
and  meditation  and  prayer,  make  it  deeper  and  deeper. 
Still  my  relations  are  quite  against  my  views.     The  first 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART.  223 

argument  is  weakness  of  constitution.  Most  unfortunately 
I  happened  to  have  a  little  cold  on  this  visit  home ;  and 
you  remember  I  was  rather  unwell  when  you  were  with  us. 
These  trifling  circumstances  make  my  friends  feel  more 
confident  in  their  argument.  I  confess  that  I  have  felt 
the  force  of  this  objection  very  strongly ;  but,  after  due 
consideratioUj  it  does  not  seem  to  me  sufliciently  strong 
to  warrant  the  plea  of  inability  to  enter  on  missionary 
work.  I  consulted  the  physician  of  Colonel  Morland's  regi- 
ment on  the  subject.  His  opinion  quite  coincided  Avith  what 
I  had  often  heard  before  —  that  no  physician  could  predict 
how  any  particular  constitution  would  suit  a  hot  climate ; 
but,  in  general,  persons  of  a  thiii  spare  habit  were  more 
likely  to  stand,  than  those  who  were  stouter.  This  argu- 
ment, you  see,  then,  I  could  get  over,  but  there  is  yet  an- 
other* which  my  parents  have  strongly  urged,  and  which 
is  of  so  painful  a  nature,  that  were  you  not  my  most 
intimate  friend,  I  should  not  lay  it  before  you. 

I  confess  that,  all  along,  it  has  weighed  deeply  with  me, 
and  has  produced  a  greater  willingness  to  submit  to  the 
wish  of  my  friends,  in  putting  off,  for  a  little,  the  final 
decision.  But  we  must  not  be  distrustful.  All  things  are 
possible  with  God.  How  far  ought  these  circumstances 
to  weigh  with  me  ?  I  confess,  they  make  me  hesitate  to 
give  you  a  decided  answer,  which  else  I  should  do,  with  all 
my  heart,  in  the  affirmative." 

The  last  letter  which  I  received  from  him,  was  dated 
September.  In  this  letter,  he  expresses  himself  with  his 
accustomed  affection,  and  unbosoms  to  me  all  his  anxieties. 
Part  of  it;  as  well  as  of  the  preceding  letter;  I  am  obliged  to 


224  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

withhold,  from  motives  of  delicacy,  though  it  relates  to 
his  chief  difficulty  in  accomplishing  the  acquiescence  of  his 
parents  in  his  leaving  this  country. 

"  Dysart  House,  September,  1826. 

''  My  very  dear  Sir  —  I  know,  that  of  late,  the  fatigues 
and  anxieties  of  public  business  must  have  pressed  on  you 
with  more  than  ordinary  severity ;  and  when  at  home,  a 
few  days  ago,  I  heard  that  in  addition  to  this,  you  had 
been  visited  with  bodily  distress.  In  these  circumstances, 
it  may  seem  presumptuous  in  me  to  encroach  on  your  time 
and  attention,  but  I  trust  you  will  forgive  me.  Though 
circumstances  have  separated  both  of  us  from  the  place 
where  I  was  wont  to  look  up  to  you  as  my  pastor,  where 
our  family  regarded  you  as  one  of  their  most  intimate  and 
most  highly  valued  friends ;  yet  I  cannot  help  feelilig,  as 
if  these  close  and  endearing  relations  subsisted  between  us 
still.  When  in  perplexity  how  to  act,  my  mind  involun- 
tarily turns  to  you  as  the  person  most  fit  to  direct  me ; 
and  when  any  affliction  distresses  our  family,  I  still  seem 
to  feel  that  we  have  a  claim  upon  your  sympathy,  even 
though  I  know  that  you  are  surrounded  by  so  many,  who 
have  now  stronger  claims  upon  your  affection  and  your 
friendship.  It  may  be  wrong  to  feel  thus ;  but  if  so,  I 
must  just  repeat  it  —  you  will  forgive  me. 

"  When  I  wrote  last  to  you,  I  had  the  intention  of  offer- 
ing myself  to  the  London  Missionary  Society  this  summer. 
The  only  impediment  was  the  opposition  of  my  friends. 
I  had  already  refused  a  good  situation,  without  consulting 
my  father.  He  was  rather  displeased.  On  the  offer  of  a 
second,  I  thought  it  right  to  submit  to  his  decision.  His 
letter  desiring  mc  to  accept,  and  your  answer  to  my  last 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART.  225 

letter,  came  by  the  same  post.  I  was  a  good  deal  per- 
plexed ;  but  at  last,  against  my  own  inclination,  I  sub- 
mitted to  parental  authority.  I  thought  this  acquiescence 
might  reconcile  my  parents  to  my  ultimate  design,  which 
I  still  kept  steadily  in  view.  In  this  I  am  disappointed. 
They  seem  to  have  expected  that  time  and  new  scenes  of 
life  would  efface  the  impression.  On  a  visit  home,  last 
week,  I  found  their  opposition  to  my  leaving  this  country  * 
more  determined  than  before.  *  *  * 

"  I  will  never  cease  to  hope,  I  will  never  cease  to  pray. 
These  are  calamities,  which  my  remaining  in  this  country 
cannot  alleviate,  and  yet  they  unnerve  all  my  fortitude  in 
the  view  of  parting.  Tell  me  how  far  you  think  this  try- 
ing dispensation  of  Providence  ought  to  weigh  with  me. 
Mr.  Adam  writes  me,  that  he  thinks  of  offering  himself  to 
the  London  Society,  with  a  view  to  a  station  at  Madras. 
I  know  the  directors  do  not  give  the  young  men  their 
choice  as  to  the  station  they  are  to  occupy ;  and,  indeed, 
it  would  be  wrong  to  do  so.  I  trust  I  am  ready  to  go  to 
any  part  of  the  world,  where  they  think  I  may  be  most 
useful ;  but  still  I  feel  that  the  presence  of  a  tried  and 
beloved  friend  would  be  a  mighty  stimulus  to  exertion, 
and  a  great  solace  in  trials.  He  talks  of  going  in  two 
years.  Did  the  directors  agree  to  such  an  arrangement, 
when  should  I  be  required  to  come  before  them  ?  In  my  pre- 
sent situation,  I  have  only  one  pupil,  so  that  I  have  a  few 
hours  for  study.  I  have  applied  pretty  diligently  to 
Hebrew  this  summer ;  and  have  studied  carefully,  Paley's 
Evidences,  Dr.  Pye  Smith's  Scripture  Testimony,  Bishop 
Lowth's  Prelections.  I  go  on  with  Mosheim's  Church 
History,  and  Home's  Introduction.  We  are,  at  present, 
at  the  Earl  of  Rosslyn's  house  here,  where  we  shall  con- 


226  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    UEQUHAET. 

tinue  three  or  four  weeks.  I  cannot  tell  what  my  plans  are 
at  present.  I  am  quite  confused.  I  tliink  I  shall  stay 
over  the  winter,  at  all  events,  in  this  family,  unless  the 
Lord,  by  the  indications  of  his  providence,  seem  to  point 
out  some  other  path.  I  find  Lord  Rosslyn  exceedingly 
kind  and  attentive.  I  trust,  the  peep  I  have  had  at  the 
pomp  and  luxury  of  the  world,  have  tended  to  convince 
me  more  decidedly,  that  it  is  an  unsatisfying  portion.  My 
pupil  gives  me  great  satisfaction.  He  has  a  very  good 
mind.  He  is  only  ten  years  of  age,  and  yet  enters  with 
delight  into  the  study  of  astronomy ;  philology  he  is  also 
very  fond  of.  I  have  conscientiously  taught  him  the  doc- 
trines of  the  gospel.  His  judgment  approves  them  ;  and 
sometimes  I  have  thought  his  heart  was  impressed.  If 
the  Lord  choose  him  for  himself,  he  may  be  eminently 
useful  in  the  Church.  His  talents,  and  family  connections, 
open  the  way  to  very  high  stations." 

He  refers  in  this  letter  to  his  reading,  of  his  diligence 
in  which,  abundant  evidence  remains  among  his  papers. 
Besides  attention  to  the  Hebrew  and  Greek  Scriptures, 
and  to  his  classical  reading,  he  abridged  during  this  summer 
and  autumn,  with  great  accuracy,  Home's  Introduction, 
Paley's  Evidences,  Dr.  Smith's  Scripture  Testimony  to 
the  Messiah,  and  Mosheim's  Ecclesiastical  History.  That 
he  was  not  inattentive  to  other  things,  is  very  evident  from 
his  letters. 

In  consequence  of  this  letter,  I  wrote  to  his  father  some 
time  after,  urging  the  necessity  of  no  longer  opposing  a 
desire  which  seemed  so  evidently  of  God,  and  pointing 
out  the  consequences  of  persisting  in  resistance.  I  be- 
lieve this,  and  other  things,  contributed  to  produce  the 


MEMOIE    or    JOHN    URQIinAET.  227 

desired  effect ;  and  John  was  satisfied,  that  when  the  time 
came,  he  would  no  longer  meet  with  opposition  from  his 
parents.  It  is  gratifying  to  me  to  be  able  to  state  this ; 
as  it  must  be  a  source  of  satisfaction  to  them  now,  to  re- 
flect that  their  resistance  could  have  had  little  or  no 
influence  on  the  cause  of  his  early  removal.  My  answer  to 
this  letter,  which  was  delayed  in  expectation  of  hearing 
from  his  father,  he  never  received.  It  was  written  the 
day  on  which  he  died,  and  was  received  in  Glasgow  on  the 
day  of  his  funeral.  A  few  more  letters  and  papers  will 
conduct  us  towards  the  closing  scene. 

"  Dysart  House,  September  28,  1826. 

"  My  very  dear  Friend  —  I  am  covered  with  shame 
on  reading  your  very  kind  letter,  and  especially  on  observ- 
ing its  date.  I  will  make  no  apology,  but  simply  beg  you 
to  forgive  me,  and  not  to  attribute  my  carelessness  to 
want  of  affection,  or  even  to  forgetfulness  of  one  of  my 
dearest  friends,  and  most  highly  esteemed  companions. 

"  Your  letter  was,  indeed,  a  refreshing  one.  Afliiction 
is  a  blessing ;  and,  I  doubt  not,  that  on  looking  back  on 
the  late  trying  dispensation  of  the  Lord  towards  your 
family,  you  feel  it  good  for  you  to  have  been  afflicted. 
Your  letter  found  me  grovelling  in  the  dust,  wrapt  in 
selfishness,  and  sunk  in  depression  ;  brooding  over  my 
own  vileness,  and  mourning  the  loss  of  privileges  I  had 
never  deserved ;  yet,  regardless  of  the  inestimable  bless- 
ings which  still  remained.  Such  a  letter  was  quite  the 
medicine  for  my  distempered  mind.  I  forgot  myself  in 
sympathizing  with  your  afliiction ;  and  the  deep  impression 
which  a  near  view  of  eternity  had  made  upon  you,  was,  I 
trust,  in  some  degree  communicated  to  myself.     0  how 


228  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

difficult  to  keep  up  a  rational  conviction  of  the  relation 
between  time  and  eternity !  How  does  our  practice  give 
the  lie  to  our  profession  ! 

"  2^th.  I  have  been  here  a  fortnight,  and  am  likely  to 
remain  a  fortnight  longer,  for  which  I  am  truly  thankful. 
Here  I  am  surrounded  with  Christian  friends  ;  and  the 
value  of  such  a  privilege  I  feel  more  than  ever,  since  I 
have  had  some  experience  of  its  loss.  There  is,  indeed, 
an  inexpressible  heaviness  in  having  no  one  like-minded. 
I  have  temptations  here  too,  but  I  trust  the  Lord  will 
uphold  me.  I  am  a  good  deal  alone ;  but  I  must  mingle 
a  little  Avith  the  society  here  ;  and  to  one  accustomed  to 
move  in  the  humblest  walks  of  life,  the  drawing-room  of  a 
peer  is  not  the  place  to  learn  humility,  or  to  be  more 
deeply  impressed  with  the  realities  of  an  unseen  world. 
Yet,  I  trust,  this  peep  at  the  luxury  and  pomp  of  the  world 
ma}^  be  sanctified  to  me.  In  what  very  trifling  do  the 
votaries  of  fashion  spend  a  life,  which  must  determine  their 
condition  in  that  eternal  state,  into  which  time  soon  will  usher 
them  !  Surely,  man  at  his  best  estate,  is  altogether  vanity. 
I  have  just  come  from  the  sick  bed  of  one  of  the  servants, 
who  has  been  ill  since  I  was  here  last.  He  is  in  a  very 
interesting  state ;  and,  I  trust  has  found  comfort  in  look- 
it)g  to  Jesus.  I  am  anxious  to  hear  of  youi'  brother's 
parish.  I  trust  the  Lord  causes  his  work  to  prosper.  I 
know  you  have  been  active  in  assisting  him.  Tell  me  the 
nature  of  your  exertions.  Herbert  Smith  was  to  begin, 
when  I  heard  from  him,  meetings  like  ours  in  St.  An- 
drew's. Henry  Craik  and  John  Brown  have  commenced 
them  in  Exeter.  Did  you  see  Henry  before  he  left  ?  You 
know  he  succeeded  Nesbit,  who  will  be  in  Edinburgh  soon. 
John  Adam   means   to   go   to   Madras,   probablv  in  two 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    ITRQUnART.  229 

years.  He  proposes  tliat  I  accompany  lilm.  I  am  in 
considerable  perplexity  how  to  determine.  Pray  for  me, 
that  I  may  not  be  left  to  do  my  own  will.  Perhaps  you 
know  that  W.  Alexander,  and  W.  Scott  Moncrieif,  return 
to  St.  Andrew's  this  winter.     What  are  youo^  plans  ? 

''  I  have  been  a  good  deal  depressed  at  the  thought  of 
my  uselessness.  I  have  done  little  to  promote  the  glory 
of  God  this  summer ;  and  in  study,  I  have  effected  very 
little.  My  pupil  gives  me  encouragement.  I  trust  his 
mind  is  pretty  thoroughly  imbued  with  those  precious 
truths,  of  which  I  found  him  very  ignorant.  At  times  he 
has  seemed  affected.  The  Lord  deepen  and  preserve  these 
impressions.  Last  Saturday  night,  I  was  much  interested 
and  affected  by  what  he  said.  In  the  middle  of  our  usual 
exercise,  he  stopped,  and  said  very  earnestly,  'Eternity!' 
Mr.  Urquhart,  '  eternity  !  I  have  had  a  thought  of  that 
which  I  never  had  before.'  Unwilling  to  interrupt  his 
feelings,  I  paused,  and  fixing  his  eyes  on  the  fire,  he  said, 
in  a  little,  with  a  tone  of  deep  earnestness :  '  Well,  I 
never  was  impressed  till  now  with  the  necessity  of  believ- 
ing immediately  on  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.'  Such  im- 
pressions may  wear  off;  but  I  trust  they  will  return.  I 
am  not  without  the  hope,  that  the  Lord  may  raise  up  this 
child  to  be  eminently  useful  in  his  church.  He  is  a  very 
original  thinker,  and  pursues  science  and  literature  with 
an  ardor  that  is  not  common  at  so  early  an  age.  I  am 
not  sure  whether  to  address  to  Edinburgh  or  Kirkliston. 
I  enclose  this  to  our  mutual  friend,  W.  Scott,  who  will 
know  where  to  find  you.  Write  soon,  and  be  particular 
in  telling  your  doings  and  your  plans,  to  your  ever 
affectionate,"  &c. 
20 


230  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQTJHAET. 

"Dysart  House,  October  9,  1826. 
*'  My  very  dear  Sister  —  I  have  been  long  expecting 
to  hear  how  my  father  arrived,  &c.  And  I  suppose,  from 
this  long  silence,  you  expect  me  to  write  first.  I  do  not 
remember  what  arrangements  my  father  made  about  writ- 
ing, when  I  saw  him ;  but  I  certainly  had  the  impression, 
that,  as  I  had  more  to  excite  anxiety  than  you,  I  had  the 
best  claim  to  have  my  anxiety  first  relieved.  How  did  my 
father  arrive  ?  How  are  you  all,  in  regard  to  health,  &c. 
How  is  David,  the  person  about  whom  I  am  most  anxious  ? 
These  and  a  thousand  other  such  questions,  I  .should  like 
much  to  have  answered.  I  beg  that  a  letter  may  be  sent 
soon,  as,  for  aught  I  know,  we  may  leave  Dysart  in  a  few 
days.  I  was  much  pleased  with  your  letter,  my  dear 
Anne,  and  hope  for  a  frequent  renewal  of  the  pleasure  I 
have  in  hearing  from  you.  You  ask  me  to  write  to  you 
about  religion,  and  I  believe  the  request  proceeds  from 
your  heart :  for,  I  cannot  think  you  would  allow  any  mo- 
tive whatever  to  make  you  trifle  with  sincerity  on  a  subject 
of  infinite  importance.  You  know  the  absolute  necessity 
of  decision  in  this  matter.  Persons  of  amiable  dispositions 
are  apt  to  be  moulded  into  the  sentiments  of  those  around 
them,  almost  without  the  consciousness  that  the  opinions 
they  have  adopted  are  not  their  own,  and  have  never  had 
any  solid  foundation  in  their  own  judgment ;  and,  pro- 
bably, have  never  made  any  serious  impression  on  their 
own  heart.  We  must  think  and  feel  for  ourselves,  as 
every  one  of  us  shall  have  to  answer  for  himself  to  God. 
I  have  nothing  new  to  write  you,  my  dear  sister,  on  the 
subject  of  religion.  All  my  little  experience  of  a  deceit- 
ful world,  and  a  still  more  deceitful  heart,  tends  only  to 
confirm  me  in  the  belief  of  those  grand  truths,  which  the 


% 


MEMOIR    OF    JOUN    URQUHART.  231 

Lord  has  permitted  us  to  know  from  infancy.  When  the 
heart  is  overwhelmed  with  guilt,  there  is  nothing  can  give 
comfort,  but  the  consideration,  that  Christ  has  made  a  full 
atonement;  and  the  repeated  declarations  of  Scripture, 
that,  if  we  believe  on  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  we  shall  be 
saved.  The  gospel  cannot  be  believed,  till  we  feel  that  we 
are  guilty.  It  is  one  thing  to  think  of  the  death  of  Christ, 
when  we  have  no  apprehensions  about  our  state  in  a  future 
world  ;  and  a  very  different  thing  indeed  to  catch  a  glimpse 
of  this  way  of  escape,  when  justice  has  shut  up  every  other 
avenue,  and  the  wrath  of  God  seems  ready  to  burst  upon 
the  soul,  which  feels  itself  to  be  accursed.  Aye,  then  we 
can  estimate,  in  some  degree  the  value  of  a  pardon,  which 
the  Son  of  God  had  to  leave  heaven  to  procure ;  we  can 
then  tell  something  of  what  is  meant  by  having  peace  with 
God;  we  experience  the  blessedness  'of  the  .man  whose 
iniquities  are  pardoned.'  Now  this  guilt  and  exposure  to 
the  wrath  of  God,  is  not  an  imaginary  case,  into  the  belief 
of  which  we  may  work  ourselves.  It  is  the  plain  matter 
of  fact.  The  Bible  describes  it  most  plainly,  as  the  state 
of  every  son  and  daughter  of  Adam.  Why  then  will  we 
shut  our  eyes  to  it,  and  rest  secure  and  contented,  without 
applying  to  the  remedy  that  has  been  provided  ? 

"It  is  the  great  evil  in  letter-writing,  that  we  can 
scarcely  enter  on  a  subject,  when  we  are  compelled  to 
leave  it.  Nothing  worth  notice  has  occurred  since  my 
father  was  here.  I  have  seen  a  little  more  of  the  folly  of 
the  world,  and  have  experienced  more  of  the  weakness  and 
worthlessness  of  my  own  heart.  I  have  written  to  John 
Adam,  about  Madras,  but  have  not  yet  received  an 
answer." 


232  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    UEQUnART. 

*'  Tennoch  Side,  October  26,  1826. 
"My  dear  Sister  —  I  believe  you  owe  me  a  letter; 
but  as  I  am  not  very  punctual  in  paying  my  debts  in  that 
way  in  general,  it  may  perhaps  atone  for  some  long  de- 
layed epistle,  to  have  sent  one,  at  least,  before  it  was  due. 
I  often  think  that  my  letters  are  too  abstract  to  interest 
you,  and  that  this  discourages  you  from  writing  freely  to 
me.     I  have  seen  parts   of  the  country  you  have  never 
visited,  and  have  sometimes  thought  of  sending  you  some 
descriptions  of  scener}^,  &c.     But  really,  I  have  no  head 
for  description.     Trees,  and  fields,  and  rivers  occur  every- 
where ;  and  were  I  to  tell  you  what  I  have  seen  in  that 
way,   it  would  only  recall   the   scenes   you  yourself  are 
familiar  with ;  for  I  have  not  the  tact  of  classifying  and 
arranging  these  elements  of  natural  description,  so  as  to 
form  any  distinct  picture  of  a  particular  landscape.     But 
I  have  made  a  journey  lately,  where  there  were  no  trees, 
no  fields ;  there  was  a  river,  indeed,  beside  us,  but  fish 
never  swam  in  it ;  and  in  the  air,  far  around,  a  bird  had 
never  been  known  to  fly.     After  this  mysterious  intro- 
duction, I  feel  obliged  to  apologize  for  my  subject.     But 
after  all,  I  can  assure  you,  though  you  may  hear  people 
talk  with   great  contempt  of  a  eoal-jnt,  you  may  travel 
many  a  mile  in  this  world  of  light  and  sunshine,  without 
seeing  anything  half  so  wonderful  as  the  coal  mines  at 
Dysart.     But  this  I  should  have  left  you  to  guess,  after 
my  description  ;  for  I  fear,  after  having  said  so,  I  shall 
fail  to  make  you  think  as  I  say.     Well,  to  fall  upon  the 
subject,  without  further  preface.      Having  made  an  en- 
gagement, the  day  before,  with  my  good  friend,  Mr.  Bar- 
clay, who  conducts  the  work,  and  who  promised  to  equip 
Die  for  the  expedition,  I  repaired  to  his  house  early  after 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART.  233 

breakfast.  I  found  only  one  dress  had  been  procured, 
which  thej  insisted  on  giving  to  me.  I  wish  you  had  seen 
us  as  we  set  out.  You  can  fancy  my  slender  body,  Avrapt 
in  a  sailor's  jacket  and  trowsers,  which  had  been  made  for 
a  stout  man,  and  crowned  with  an  immense  old  hat,  which 
had  an  irresistible  tendency  to  rest  upon  my  shoulders. 
After  half  an  hour's  walk  in  this  fantastic  attire,  during 
which  time  I  afforded  some  merriment  to  the  natives,  and 
felt  now  and  then  a  little  hesitation  on  the  subject  of  per- 
sonal identity,  we  reached  the  place  of  descent.  It  is  a 
perpendicular  shaft,  with  a  wooden  partition  in  the  middle, 
reaching  to  the  bottom.  On  one  side  of  this  partition  are 
placed  short  wooden  ladders,  in  a  zig-zag  direction,  from 
top  to  bottom  of  the  pit.  Having  each  lighted  his  candle, 
we  addressed  ourselves  to  the  work  of  descending,  and 
were  right  glad,  after  some  fatigue,  and  no  little  wariness, 
to  find  that  we  had  reached  the  bottom.  At  this  spot,  we 
were  about  half  a  mile  from  the  shaft  where  the  coals  are 
taken  up.  Mr.  Barclay  led  the  way,  with  a  lantern,  and 
after  we  had  followed  for  some  time,  we  began  to  perceive 
that  we  had  entered  a  spacious  gallery,  the  roof  about 
twelve  feet  high.  By  the  glimmer  of  our  candles  on  the 
right  hand,  the  wall  seemed  to  be  solid,  but  on  the  left, 
now  and  then  appeared  a  spacious  gloomy  cavern,  which 
seemed  to  turn  at  right  angles  to  the  route  we  were  pur- 
suing, but  how  far  we  could  not  tell ;  all  beyond  a  few 
yards,  was  covered  with  an  impenetrable  darkness.  To 
let  you  know  more  than  I  did,  when  surveying  these 
gloomy  regions,  we  were  walking  in  what  miners  call  tlie 
level,  which  is  excavated  in  a  horizontal  direction,  (as  its 
name  imports)  in  a  line  at  right  angles  to  the  direction 
which  the  stratum  dips.  In  this  way,  a  level  channel  is 
20* 


234  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

obtained  for  the  water  that  accumulates,  without  passing 
from  the  vein  of  coal,  which  you  will  easily  perceive,  could 
not  be  accomplished  by  running  a  mine  in  any  other  direc- 
tion. In  that  case,  if  you  follow  the  coal,  you  must 
descend  with  the  stratum ;  if  you  keep  a  level,  you  leave 
the  coal.  The  caverns  on  our  left  hand,  were  the  work- 
ings^ which  are  always  wrought  upwards  ;  hence  we  had 
none  on  our  right  hand.  On  this  side  a  river  flowed, 
which  was  supplied  by  tributary  streams,  that  issued  from 
the  caverns  I  have  attempted  to  describe,  or  sometimes  by 
a  water-fall,  where  the  roof  had  given  way.  Hitherto  the 
murmur  of  the  stream  had  alone  broken  the  dreary  stillness 
of  these  caverns,  and  the  feeble  rays  of  our  candles  had 
only  made  visible  the  darkness  they  could  not  dissipate ; 
but  now  other  sounds  and  sights  began  to  burst  upon  us ; 
a  fire  was  seen  blazing  in  the  distance,  and  a  number  of 
motley  faces,  which  still  preserved  some  colours  that  could 
reflect  the  light,  (reflected  by  nothing  else,)  danced  and 
gleamed  before  us  like  the  figures  in  a  magic-lantern.  The 
clanking  of  chains,  and  the  trampling  of  horses,  w^ere  now 
distinctly  heard ;  and  a  hollow^  sound,  as  of  distant  thunder, 
grumbled  through  the  subterranean  vaults,  as  the  loaded 
baskets  (I  might  almost  call  them  wagons)  were  dragged 
along.  We  had  now,  in  fact,  arrived  at  the  pit,  where  the 
coals  are  raised  by  a  steam  engine ;  and  by  that  time,  I 
was  as  much  tired  with  my  walk,  as  I  now  am  in  describ- 
ing it.  We  had  not  yet  travelled  over  half  the  ground ; 
but  as  the  rest  of  our  journey  was  more  expeditious,  I 
hope  to  make  the  description  more  brief.  A  train  of 
empty  baskets  were  ready  to  move,  in  w^iich  we  made 
very  comfortable  seats  of  straw.  Our  horse  was  harnessed, 
our  lights  adjusted,  and  in  a  few  minutes  we  started  at 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART.  235 

full  trot  to  explore  the  yet  unseen  recesses  of  this  endless 
labyrinth.  What  we  saw  here,  was  just  what  we  had  seen 
before,  till  we  arrived,  ^after  travelling  another  mile,  at  the 
place  where  the  men  were  at  work.  Here  the  air  was 
very  close,  from  the  smoke  of  their  lamps,  and  we  were 
glad  to  make  our  way  back  on  loaded  baskets,  though 
contrary  to  the  laws  of  those  realms.  We  took  no  candles 
in  returning,  as  a  lamp  is  attached  to  each  train  of 
baskets.  By  accident  this  only  remaining  light  went  out 
about  the  middle  of  our  journey,  and  we  were  left  in  dark- 
ness, of  which  those  above  ground  can  form  no  conception. 
Our  horse  continued  to  canter  along,  as  if  nothing  had 
happened,  at  a  rate  that  made  it  a  little  difiScult  for  me  to 
keep  my  seat.  In  some  time,  a  twinkling  lamp  again 
appeared  in  the  distance,  on  passing  which,  things  went 
on  as  before.  The  baskets  we  travelled  in,  are  set  on 
wheels,  which  move  on  a  railway.  The  horses  are  in  excel- 
lent condition,  and  have  very  good  stables  in  the  mine. 
They  never  see  the  light  of  day,  from  the  time  they  are 
first  lowered  down.  Of  our  return,  I  need  not  describe 
further. 

"  When  you  have  read  the  above  confused  description, 
read  the  twenty-eighth  chapter  of  Job,  and  tell  me  if  it 
does  not  throw  some  light  on  the  sublime  description  there. 
If  not,  I  have  failed  to  represent  to  you  what  I  have  seen. 
Man  can,  indeed,  do  much ;  but,  after  all,  his  power  is 
limited.  He  can  put  forth  his  hand  upon  the  rocks,  and 
overturn  the  mountains  by  the  roots.  He  can  cut  out 
rivers  among  the  rocks ;  he  can  bind  the  flood  from  over- 
flowing. His  eye  seeth  every  precious  thing,  and  the 
thing  that  is  hid,  he  bringeth  forth  to  light.  But  where 
shall  Avisdom  be  found?      God  alone  knoweth  the  way 


236  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    UEQUHART. 

thereof;  and  0,  let  us  thank  him  with  our  whole  hearts, 
that  what  human  skill  could  never  have  discovered,  he 
has  freely  made  known  to  us  by  the  gospel.  Man  can 
'  bore  the  solid  earth  ;'  but  the  depth,  saith  of  this  wisdom, 
*It  is  not  in  me.'  Man  can  fathom  the  ocean  and  explore 
its  hidden  caverns ;  but  the  sea  saith,  '  It  is  not  with  me.'  In 
what  a  pitiable  condition  is  man,  with  all  his  boasted  wis- 
dom, without  divine  revelation.  0  how  thankful  then  should 
we  be,  that  this  precious  gift,  the  gift  of  heavenly  wisdom, 
is  freely  offered  to  all !  It  is  easily  accessible  to  every 
individual.  No  careful  and  laborious  search  is  to  be  made, 
ere  we  can  discover  it ;  no  difficult  task  to  be  performed, 
ere  we  can  deserve  it.  '  Say  not  then  in  thine  heart,'  &c. 
(Read  the  passage,  Rom.  x.  8 ;  and  the  parallel  verses, 
Deut.  XXX.  11-15.) 

"  Let  us  embrace  with  eagerness  and  joy,  the  precious 
truths  that  God  has  revealed  to  us.  Pardon  and  recon- 
ciliation, and  spiritual  renovation,  are  the  gifts  that  are 
offered.  They  are  not  to  be  compared  in  value  to  any 
earthly  thing.  They  have  been  purchased  by  the  blood 
of  Christ,  and  are  offered  to  us  for  nothing.  0  let  us  not 
then  despise  or  neglect  these  invaluable  gifts,  which  the 
possession  of  a  thousand  worlds  could  not  enable  us  to 
purchase  !" 

"  Dysart  House,  October  13,  1826. 

*'My  dear  Trail  —  Perhaps  I  should  have  written 
sooner,  but  I  trust  you  will  not  attribute  this  delay  to 
want  of  affection.  I  have  really  nothing  particular  to 
communicate,  except  my  very  sincere  thanks  for  your  truly 
kind  and  refreshing  letter.  I  trust  this  will  find  you  a 
preacher  of  the  gospel,  and  I  am  sure,  if  once  all  external 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART.  237 

barriers  are  removed ;  the  state  of  those  around  you,  will 
constrain  jou  to  be  instant  in  season,  and  out  of  season.  You 
mention  having  heard  from  our  dear  friend  Adam ;  and  I 
suppose,  he  addressed  you  on  the  subject  which  has  taken 
possession  of  his  whole  soul.  Have  you  been  thinking 
more  of  the  missionary  work  ?  I  feel  the  argument  for 
personal  engagement  every  day  more  strong ;  and  if  there 
are  times  when  I  have  a  longing  persuasion  that  it  may 
be  my  duty  to  remain  at  home,  they  are  times  when  the 
chilling  influence  of  the  world  has  cooled  every  holy  aifec- 
tion.  This  convinces  me,  more  than  anything,  that  the 
matter  is  of  God.  Did  I  tell  you,  that  our  friend,  Ren- 
toul,  has  been  so  impressed  with  the  duty  of  preaching  to 
the  heathen,  as  to  have  almost  (I  trust,  by  this  time,  alto- 
gether) decided  on  offering  his  services  to  the  London 
Missionary  Society  ?  Henry  Craik  has  written  me,  since 
his  arrival  at  Exeter,  which  place  he  seems  to  like  very 
much.  John  Brown  and  he  are  making  some  exertion  for 
the  spiritual  good  of  the  people. 

"  I  had  a  letter  from  Mr.  Adam  yesterday,  who  seems 
to  think  of  Madras  as  the  place  of  his  destination.  I  sup- 
pose he  had  begun  to  study  Sanscrit  when  he  wrote  to 
you.  He  goes  on  with  it.  I  could  have  wished  much  to 
accompany  John  Adam,  but  many  circumstances  seem  to 
demand  a  considerable  delay  on  my  part.  May  the  Lord 
make  me  submissive.  I  know  his  ways  are  the  best. 
Generally  on  looking  back,  we  can  see  that  every  step  we 
took  was  necessary  for  our  welfare,  although  when  we 
too.k  these  steps,  all  was  darkness  and  perplexity ;  '  The 
Lord  leadeth  the  blind  by  a  way  that  they  know  not.'  It 
is  a  privilege  even  to  be  blind,  if  we  have  such  a  Leader. 
Since  we  came  here,  the  Earl  of  Rosslyn's  family  have 


238  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

been  all  at  home,  and  there  has  been  a  good  deal  of  com- 
pany. Lord  Loughborough,  Lord  Rossljn's  son,  was  mar- 
ried last  Tuesday. 

"  I  feel  that  the  near  approach  of  rank  and  fashion  has 
a  strong,  though  almost  imperceptible  influence,  in  super- 
inducing a  spirit  of  worldliness.  Every  new  scene  tliat 
opens  to  me  convinces  me  that  the  world  in  which  we  live 
is  more  dangerous  than  ever  I  imagined,  and  every  new 
temptation  shows  me  that  my  strength  is  utter  weakness. 
How  difficult  to  learn  the  lesson  of  our  own  utter  worth- 
lessness  !  Experience  alone  can  teach  it.  0  that  we  may 
be  enabled  to  look  more  simply  to  Christ  alone  !  In  him 
we  are  complete.  Through  Christ  strengthening  us  we 
can  do  all  things.  I  thank  you  for  your  kind  present, 
and  for  your  still  kinder  advices.  Pray  for  me,  that  the 
Lord  would  uphold  me ;  for  I  feel  that  I  walk  on  slippery 
places.  Nesbit  will  be  in  Edinburgh  soon.  W.  S.  Mon- 
crieff,  and  W.  Alexander,  my  old  companions,  are  the  only 
persons  I  know  going  to  St.  Andrew's. 

"  I  hope  they  will  be  strenuous  in  their  exertions.  We 
return  soon  to  the  neighbourhood  of  Glasgow,  where  I  ex- 
pect to  spend  the  winter." 

"Dysart  House,  October  IG,  1826. 
"  My  very  dear  Friend  —  I  have  just  been  conning 
over  your  very  interesting  letter,  by  way  of  foraging  for 
my  own  pen,  for  I  fear  this  will  be  a  very  barren  and  un- 
interesting letter.  Every  line  of  your  epistle  is  filled  with 
what  is  interesting,  so  that  I  scarcely  know  what  to  allude 
to  first.  The  first  thing  that  strikes  me  is,  that  the  date 
of  this  letter  is  exactly  a  month  later  than  yours,  which 
was  the  time  fixed  for  our  dear  Nesbit's  leaving  you.     I 


MEMOIK    OF    JOHN    URQUHAHT.  239 

trust  lie  has  left  jou,  else  I  shall  be  denied  the  pleasure 
of  an  interview  with  him,  as  I  pass  through  Edinburgh 
for  Tennoch  Si<le,  the  end  of  this  week.  But,  by  the  way, 
when  your  letter  was  written  you  did  not  know  I  had  left 
that  part  of  the  country.  It  is  now  about  five  weeks, 
since  Colonel  Morland's  family  came  to  Dysart,  and  on 
leaving  our  former  residence,  I  was  permitted  to  pay  a 
visit  to  Perth,  which  was  doubly  sweet  to  me,  from  having 
been  removed  for  a  time  from  all  who  were  like  minded. 
One  thing  I  was  much  disappointed  in,  my  parents  showed 
a  more  determined  opposition  than  ever  to  my  going  to 
the  heathen.  I  had  hoped  that,  by  this  time,  they  would 
have  been  quite  reconciled,  and  I  had  formed  my  phans 
accordingly.  I  have  now  no  plan.  I  am  waiting  till  the 
Lord,  by  his  providence,  point  out  the  way  to  me.  Even 
my  dear  John  Adam  recommends  delay  in  my  circum- 
stances. I  fear  he  must  leave  me  behind  him,  for  I  sup- 
pose, to  be  qualified  to  go  with  him  even  as  an  assistant, 
I  should  require  to  be  in  London  immediately.  But  it  is 
well  that  we  should  have  our  plans  frustrated.  God  has 
marked  out  the  way  for  us  already,  and  it  is  very  pre- 
sumptuous in  us  to  try  to  mark  it  out  for  ourselves.  I 
feel  that  the  present  is  very  apt  to  be  overlooked,  in  lay- 
ing schemes  for  the  future,  and  the  opportunities  of  use- 
fulness that  daily  present  themselves,  are  apt  to  be 
neglected  in  the  imagination  of  still  more  favourable 
opportunities  that  are  to  come.  This  is  evidently  a  device 
of  Satan's.  How  many  precepts  have  we  in  Scripture  to 
guard  us  against  delusion  ! 

"Since  I  have  been  here,  I  have  seen  a  good  deal  of 
what  is  called  the  world.  Lord  Rosslyn's  family  has  been 
at  home,  and  there  has  been  a  good  deal  of  company. 


240  MEMOm    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

There  is  a  fascination  about  rank,  and  fashion,  and  gaiety, 
and  splendor,  -which  has  an  almost  imperceptible  influence 
even  on  the  heart  that  is  conscious  of  their  utter  vanity. 
The  smile  of  the  world  is  more  dangerous  than  its  frown  ; 
and  the  kindness  and  attention  of  those  who  are  called 
great,  have  a  strong  tendency  to  lead  away  from  the  sim- 
plicity that  is  in  Christ.  This  I  have,  in  some  degree, 
experienced. 

"I  do  not  know  whether  I  ever  wrote  anything  about 
my  pupil.  He  is  a  boy  of  a  very  affectionate  and  amiable 
disposition :  and  if  I  am  not  mistaken,  he  has  an  intellect 
of  no  ordinary  cast.  But  he  has  been  quite  spoiled,  he 
has  never  been  accustomed  to  obey  anybody,  and  has 
never  been  punished  for  a  fault.  Of  course,  you  can  see, 
in  such  a  case,  I  have  a  good  deal  to  try  me,  but  yet  I 
have  encouragement  too.  He  has  been  several  times  a 
good  deal  impressed  with  the  doctrines  of  the  gospel,  and 
though  these  impressions  may  wear  oif  again,  at  present 
they  give  encouragement  to  hope  and  pray,  that  the  heart 
which  has  been  influenced  by  them,  may  be,  sooner  or 
later,  entirely  subjugated  to  the  Lord.  I  rejoice  to  hear 
of  your  exertion  in  your  neighbourhood.  Persevere,  my 
dear  friend.  I  mean  to  renew  my  eff'orts  to  have  a  meet- 
ing near  Tennoch  Side.  Give  my  aftectionate  regards  to 
John  Brown.  I  am  glad  to  know,  that,  practically,  he 
has  given  up  his  peculiar  tenets.  I  am  not  in  a  condition 
for  writing  on  Mr..  Grove's  pamphlet  at  present,  as  it  is 
some  time  since  I  read  it,  and  I  have  not  a  copy  here  with 
me.  I  feel  in  a  very  peculiar  manner  towards  Mr.  Grove, 
though  I  have  never  seen  him.  I  would  travel  a  good 
way  to  meet  with  him.  Give  him  my  respectful  and  aifec- 
tionate  compliments.     I  will  not  send  any  expression  of 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHABT.  241 

aifectionate  regard  for  mj  dear  Ncsbit,  for  I  indulge  a 
hope  of  seeing  him  in  Edinburgh.  I  like  the  general  out- 
line of  the  Hamiltonian  System  very  much.  I  have 
adopted  it  so  far  in  Hebrew,  as  to  take  all  the  assistance 
I  can  from  our  English  translation,  at  the  same  time 
examining  the  grammatical  structure  of  each  word.  Pray 
for  me,  my  dear  brother.  I  have  need  of  your  prayers, 
for  I  am  in  a  very  cold  and  lifeless  state.  Ever,  my 
dearest  Henry,  yours  most  affectionately." 

"Tennoch  Side,  November  IG,  1826. 

"  My  dearest  Friend  —  For  some  time  back,  I  have 
everi/  day  been  thinking  of  answering  your  very  kind 
letter.  I  had  actually  sat  down  some  days  ago,  but  find- 
ing I  had  nothing  of  importance  to  communicate,  I  felt 
unwilling  to  break,  without  a  cause,  upon  your  very  valu- 
able time.  But  I  cannot  resist  the  pleasure  of  conversing 
with  you  for  a  little,  for  it  is  now  some  time  since  I  have 
talked  with  a  Christian  friend. 

"  You  know  I  have  been  a  wanderer  since  I  wrote  to 
you,  and  perhaps  it  may  amuse  you  to  give  some  account 
of  myself !  -  But  I  have  such  a  memory.  I  had  forgot  that 
I  had  written  to  you  from  Dysart.  In  passing  through 
Edinburgh  I  saw  Scott  and  Tait,  and  Alexander,  of  whom, 
the  last  alone  has  returned  to  St.  Andrew's.  I  have 
heard  that  Bentoul  intended  going,  but  not  from  himself. 
Alas,  poor  St.  Andrew's  !  I  am  anxiously  expecting  a 
letter  from  Alexander.  Craik  left  Edinburgh  without 
giving  any  account  of  the  Missionary  Society's  book,  which 
he  had  as  secretary ;  and  I  had  great  difficulty  in  compel- 
ling Alexander  to  write  about  it.  By  the  way,  I  have 
heard  Duft'  is  returned.  I  trust  he  will  be  staunch  and 
21 


242  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

zealous.  I  mean  to  write  to  him  soon.  Since  I  am  in  the 
way  of  giving  news,  I  may  mention,  that  I  had  a  letter  the 
other  day  from  our  old  friend  Hoby,  accusing  both  your- 
self and  me  of  not  writing.  He  has  '  pitched  his  tent,'  as 
he  expresses  it,  at  Weymouth,  being  disappointed  in  his 
attempt  to  find  a  settlement  near  the  Metropolis.  His 
letter  breathes  a  strong  missionary  spirit.  *  It  is  impossi- 
ble,' he  says,  'to  think  of  going  7iow ;  but  would  to  God  I 
could  find  a  more  extended  sphere  of  usefulness  among 
the  heathen,  than  I  am  likely  to  find  here.'  This,  in  part, 
I  do  not  quite  understand,  for  it  would  appear,  that  there 
is  abundance  of  work  at  home,  for  those  who  cannot  go  to 
heathen  countries. 

"  I  am  back  to  my  hermitage,  and  have  been  here  for 
three  weeks.  All  around  is  more  dreary  now  than  ever ; 
and,  in  other  respects,  external  circumstances  are  no 
better  than  they  were,  and  yet  I  know  nothing  of  that 
strange  dejection  which  pressed  so  heavy  on  me  before. 
I  wish  you  would  destroy  anything  I  wrote  to  you  then  ; 
as,  if  I  wrote  as  I  felt,  I  must  have  appeared  to  you  little 
other  than  a  fool  or  a  madman.  I  cannot  help  thinking, 
on  looking  back,  that  I  was  afflicted  with  a  lighter  species 
of  the  most  dreadful  malady  that  can  visit  a  rational  being. 
I  do  in  earnest  thank  the  Lord  that  I  now  enjoy  not  only 
health  of  body,  but  that  littled  valued,  but  highly  precious 
blessing,  soundness  of  mind.  I  cannot  say  that  the  advice 
of  your  last  letter  did  not  damp  me  a  little.  But  you  are 
right,  I  must  wait  till  the  Lord  direct  me.  If  you  must 
go  without  me,  I  think  I  can  bear  it.  All  my  experience 
tells  me  that  I  want  a  tried  friend  to  lean  upon,  (a 
sentiment  by  the  way,  which  you  strangely  misinterpreted 
in  a  letter  to  Scott ;)  and  such  I  hoped  you  might  be  to 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART.  243 

me.  But  I  see  my  error,  I  must  lean  upon  Christ.  I  am 
more  convinced  than  ever  that  happiness  depends  little  on 
what  is  without.  0,  for  a  closer  walk  with  God  !  for  this 
alone,  in  any  circumstances,  can  give  true  enjoyment.  I 
have  seen  a  good  deal  of  the  gaiety  of  the  world  since  I 
saw  you.  It  is  all  vanity.  I  have  learned  that  lords  and 
ladies  are  just  men  and  women.  It  is  probable  that  we 
return  to  Lord  Rosslyn's  at  Christmas,  to  remain  some 
time,  so  you  see  I  am  quite  a  pilgrim.  '  We  have  no  abid- 
ing city  here.'  That  reminds  me  of  a  delightful  month 
at  Homerton,  and  of  many  a  change  since." 

"  Tennoch  Side,  November,  1826. 
"  My  dear  Friend  —  I  trust  you  continue  to  enjoy,  in 
some  degree,  the  measure  of  health  and  freedom  from 
pain,  which  you  did  when  I  last  had  the  pleasure  of  see- 
ing you.  But  the  uncomfortable  weather  we  have  had  for 
some  time,  almost  forbids  me  to  think  so.  Whichever 
way  it  is,  I  know  that  you  refer  it  to  the  Lord,  who  doth 
all  things  well.  It  is  in  kindness  that  he  afflicts,  and  it 
is  in  kindness  too,  that  he  sometimes  gives  a  short  respite 
from  suffering.  Perhaps  it  is  in  such  seasons  that  the 
benefit  of  affliction  is  most  felt.  In  the  midst  of  severe 
distress,  the  most  serene  mind  must  be  agitated ;  and  it  is 
difficult  to  feel  that  the  Lord  afflicts,  because  he  loves  us. 
In  such  circumstances  David  was  beginning  to  fear  that 
the  Lord  had  forsaken  him ;  it  was  only  by  escaping  from 
himself,  as  it  were,  that  he  could  find  comfort.  *  This  is 
my  infirmity,'  said  he,  'I  will  remember  the  years  of  the 
right  hand  of  the  Most  High;'  or,  as  some  translate  it, 
'the  change  of  the  right  hand  of  the  Most  High,'  that  is, 
his  varied  dispensations,  in  dealing  with  his  people.     But 


244  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

"when  severer  suffering  is  for  a  while  removed,  there  is 
often  a  holy  calmness  that  pervades  the  soul,  and  the  re- 
maining affliction,  instead  of  ruffling  the  mind  as  before, 
has  a  soothing  influence ;  and,  like  the  exercise  of  fasting, 
melts  the  whole  soul  into  willing  submission  to  the  divine 
will.  It  is  with  bodily  affliction,  in  some  respects,  as  it  is 
with  the  diseases  of  the  mind  — 

"When  the  wounds  of  woe  are  healing, 
When  the  heart  is  all  resigned,  — 
^Tis  the  solemn  feast  of  feeling, 
'Tis  the  Sabbath  of  the  mind/ 

"  This  sacred  repose  I  am  sure  you  have  often  felt,  and 
have  thought  the  trouble  well  worth  the  bearing,  which 
yielded  such  peaceable  fruits.  Such  seasons  are  the 
earnests  of  that  rest  which  remaineth  for  the  people  of  God. 
It  is  an  acquiescence  in  the  divine  will  that  causes  this 
holy  calm  within  the  breast.  How  sweet  and  sacred  must 
th^t  rest  be,  which  remaineth  for  us  !  Then  all  the  dis- 
pensations of  God  will  have  wrought  together  in  produc- 
ing perfect  resignation  to  the  will  of  our  Heavenly  Father. 
Surely  this  must  be  perfect  peace.  Let  us  welcome,  then, 
all  that  fits  us  for  such  a  state  of  holy  enjoyment.  All 
things  work  together  for  our  good.  You  will  excuse  me 
for  writing  on  a  subject  of  which  I  may  be  supposed  to 
know  little.  True,  I  have  had  little  bodily  affliction  ;  but 
I  have  not  lived  eighteen  years  in  such  a  world,  without 
tasting  the  bitterness  of  sorrow.  You  know  some  trials 
that  have  pressed  heavily  upon  me.  You  have  been  long 
severely  afflicted,  and  if  anything  I  can  write  can  suggest 
any  consolation,  I  shall  esteem  it  a  high  honour  to  have 
been  permitted  to  minister  to  one  of  the  saints." 


MEMOIR     OF    JOHN    URQUHART.  245 

*'  Tennoch  Side,  November  30,  1826. 
"My  dear  Trail  —  The  important  subject  of  your 
letter  has  been  much  in  my  thoughts,  and  often  in  my 
prayers  since  I  received  it.  I  have  felt  a  reluctance  to 
write,  from  a  feeling  of  the  deep  responsibility  of  influencing 
you  in  so  momentous  a  matter,  and  from  a  consciousness 
of  utter  unfitness  for  the  task  you  impose  on  me.  On 
many  accounts  I  am  not  the  person  to  advise  you.  The 
book  of  Providence  is  often  difficult  to  interpret,  and  I 
will  not  pretend  to  offer  an  opinion  on  the  particular 
passage  of  it,  you  have  laid  before  me  in  your  own  history. 
We  do  well  to  remember,  however,  that  the  devil  can 
quote  from  this  declaration  of  the  divine  will,  as  well  as 
from  his  written  word,  to  give  effect  and  plausibility  to  his 
temptations.  Perhaps  we  can  never  be  sure  that  we  inter- 
pret the  divine  Providence  aright,  in  deciding  a  doubtful 
question  of  duty,  except  when  the  mind  has  been  duly  ex- 
ercised by  prayer,  in  regard  to  the  subject  connected  with 
the  particular  event,  or  chain  of  events  under  consid?ra- 
tion.  If  the  'mind  thus  prepared  has  a  particular  bent, 
which  is  favoured  or  not  opposed  by  external  circumstances, 
I  think  in  such  a  case  we  have  rational  grounds  for  sup- 
posing that  prayer  has  been  answered,  and  the  desired 
direction  has  been  given.  Since  supernatural  communica- 
tions have  ceased,  I  see  not  how  prayer  can  be  otherwise 
answered.  And  there  is  no  scope  for  the  working  of 
enthusiasm  in  obeying  this  inward  impulse,  when  we  limit 
it  by  the  declarations  of  Scripture,  and  confine  it  to  those 
points  of  conduct  which  as  you  observe,  are  left  undeter- 
mined by  the  sacred  word.  This  is  the  course  you  have 
pui^sued,  I  doubt  not.  It  is  the  course  I  have  tried  to 
pursue.  The  Lord  will  direct  us,  my  dear  Trail.  He 
21* 


246  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHAET. 

who  has  made  the  path  plain  hitherto,  -will  direct  us  still. 
I  am  tired  of  laying  plans,  they  have  been  so  often  frus- 
trated. After  all,  I  see  that  I  have  been  ever  too  anxious 
about  the  future,  and  all  such  anxiety  is  useless,  for  the 
Lord  will  lead  the  blind  by  a  way  that  they  know  not. 

*'My  views  with  regard  to  missions  are  still  much  the 
same.  The  gospel  is  for  mankind,  for  the  world ;  and 
why  should  one  little  island  contain  nearly  all  the  messen- 
gers of  peace  ?  The  little  success  in  some  parts  is  no  dis- 
couragement, nor  does  it  even  show  that  men  had  run 
where  they  were  not  sent.  Remember  the  first  attempts 
in  Otaheite.  Consider  the  continent  of  Asia.  John  Adam 
remains  in  London,  preparing,  I  suppose,  for  India.  I 
say  nothing  of  Rentoul,  as  I  hope  you  have  met  him  at 
St.  Andrew's ;  if  so,  remember  me  very  affectionately  to 
him,  also  to  Duff,  and  W.  Alexander.  Craik  and  Brown 
remain  in  Exeter.  I  have  not  yet  heard  of  Nesbit's 
arrival  in  Scotland.  I  am  anxious  to  hear  how  matters  go 
on  m  St.  Andrew's  this  winter." 

He  wrote,  in  the  month  of  November,  a  paper  on 
^'Fiction  as  a  Medium  of  Religious  Instruction,"  which 
was  inserted  in  the  Christian  Herald,  a  periodical  work, 
published  in  Edinburgh.* 

^  See  Appendix  M. 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART.  247 


CHAPTER  VI. 

The  commencement  of  his  last  illness  —  Extract  from  his  Journal  — 
Letter  to  Mr.  Tate  —  Letter  to  Mr.  Craik  —  Letter  to  his  father  — 
Letter  from  Mr.  Ewing  to  his  father  —  Letter  from  Mrs.  Ewing 
to  the  same  —  Letter  from  Mrs.  Ewing,  giving  an  account  of  his 
illness  and  death  —  Letter  from  Miss  Cathcart  on  the  same  subject 
—  His  death  —  Letter  from  Dr.  Chalmers  to  his  father — Lines 
addressed  to  John  by  a  friend — Concluding  observations  on  his 
character  and  death. 

The  time  now  drew  nigh,  when  my  beloved  friend  was 
to  be  removed  from  this  delusive  and  suffering  world,  to 
the  '  unsuffering  kingdom'  of  his  adorable  Lord.  For  that 
state  of  ineffable  bliss,  he  had  been  for  a  considerable  time 
preparing,  under  the  discipline  of  Providence,  and  the 
sanctifying  grace  of  the  Redeemer.  In  knowledge,  he 
had  far  outstripped  his  equals  of  his  own  age ;  in  zeal  and 
devotedness,  he  occupied  the  front  rank  of  a  chosen  band 
of  youthful  associates ;  and  in  the  feelings  and  exercises 
of  humility,  he  lay  lower  than  the  lowest.  The  measure 
of  his  spiritual  stature  was  now  completed,  and  the  full 
reward  of  glory  was  made  ready  for  him,  by  Him  whom 
he  loved.  I  feel  myself  incapable  of  describing  the  clos- 
ing scenes,  and  shall  therefore  leave  them,  in  a  great 
measure  to  be  told  by  others. 

From  a  child,  he  gave  evidence  of  possessing  a  constitu- 
tion of  peculiar  delicacy,  which  was,  therefore,  liable 
to  be  affected,  both  mentally  and  physically,  by  many 
causes,  which  do  not  operate  powerfully  on  persons  of  a 


248  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

robust  and  hardy  temperament.  The  symptoms  of  a  mor- 
bid depression,  which  appeared  during  the  summer  of  1826, 
were  only,  I  apprehend,  the  harbingers  of  the  fatal  attack, 
by  which  he  was  appointed  to  be  removed  from  this  world. 
I  fear  it  was  not  discovered  in  time,  that  the  brain  was  the 
origin  of  his  complaints  ;  the  intense  and  unceasing  action 
of  the  mind,  proving  too  powerful  for  his  delicate  bodily 
frame.  In  the  mysterious  arrangements  of  Providence,  it 
would  seem,  that  whatever  arrives  very  early  at  perfection, 
is  destined  to  be  soon  cut  off.  Premature  growth  is  gene- 
rally followed  by  a  premature  end.  The  case  of  Urquhart 
is  very  similar  to  those  of  Durant  and  Kirke  White ;  and 
the  inimitably  beautiful  lines  which  Lord  Byron  applies 
to  the  latter,  are,  I  conceive,  equally  applicable  to  my 
young  friend.  It  is  singular,  that  the  passage  to  which  I 
refer,  was  transcribed  by  him  into  a  scrap-book,  entitled, 
"Extracts  in  Poetry,  from  various  authors,"  only  a  short 
time  before  his  death. 


■  Oh  !  what  a  noble  heart  was  here  undone, 
When  Science'  self  destroyed  her  favourite  son  ! 
Yes !  she  too  much  indulged  thy  fond  pursuit, 
She  sowed  the  seeds,  but  death  has  reaped  the  fruit. 
'Twas  thine  own  genius  gave  the  fa^;al  blow, 
And  helped  to  plant  the  wound  that  laid  thee  low. 
So  the  struck  eagle,  stretched  upon  the  plain. 
No  more  through  rolling  clouds  to  soar  again, 
Viewed  his  own  feather  on  the  fatal  dart. 
And  winged  the  shaft  which  quivered  in  his  heart. 
Keen  were  his  pangs,  but  keener  far  to  feel, 
He  nursed  the  pinion,  which  impelled  the  steel : 
While  the  same  plumage  that  had  warmed  his  nest, 
Drank  the  last  life  drop  of  his  bleeding  breast. 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART.  249 

The  last  entry  in  his  journal  describes  the  commence- 
ment of  the  attack,  which  terminated  his  earthly  career, 
and  gives  a  most  delightful  view  of  the  state  of  his  mind. 
"  The  ruling  passion,"  his  devoted  attachment  to  the  mis- 
sionary cause,  appears  strong  even  in  death.  To  be  with- 
drawn from  this  work  was  the  otdy  thing  wdiich  excited 
his  regret,  or  extorted  the  expression  of  painful  feeling; 
yet,  even  in  regard  to  that,  his  mind  appeared  perfectly 
subdued. 

"  December,  1826. 

"  Wednesday  IBth.  —  An  excessive  languor  and  weak- 
ness has  prevented  me  from  studying  regularly  this  week. 
Had  a  long  conversation  with  the  gardener,  last  night, 
whom  I  find  to  be  a  very  shrewd  man.  He  is  quite  a 
Scotchman.  The  contrast,  in  point  of  intellect,  and  ac- 
quired knowledge,  between  him  and  the  English  servants 
in  the  family,  is  very  striking.  Yet  they  have  travelled  a 
good  deal,  and  have  nearly  one-third  of  the  day  at  their 
own  disposal.  His  knowledge  has  been  picked  up  in  his 
own  cottage,  and  those  around  it.  He  argues  well  on  the 
doctrines  of  Christianity ;  but,  I  fear,  as  is  the  case,  alas  ! 
with  many  of  our  countrymen,  the  head  is  engaged  more 
than  the  heart. 

"  14:th.  Rose  to-day  at  a  quarter  to  eight.  Read  half 
a  chapter  of  the  Greek  Testament.  Second  chapter  of 
Joshua  in  Hebrew.  Dr.  Cokely  called  to-day,  and  pro- 
nounces my  illness  an  afi'ection  of  the  liver.  This  has  dis- 
tressed me  a  good  deal,  as  it  may  unfit  me  for  the  East, 
which  I  have  long  contemplated  as  the  scene  of  my  labours. 
But  the  Lord  knows  what  is  best.  If  he  hedge  up  the 
way,   I  mai/  not  walk  in  it.     I  would  not,  if  I  might. 


250  MEMOIE    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

I  begin  a  course  of  medicine  on  Friday,  which,  I  pray  God 
may  bless,  for  the  restoration  of  my  health ;  that  my  body 
may  be  fitted  for  his  service.  If  this  be  not  his  will,  I 
know,  that  the  destruction  of  this  body  will  perfect  the 
soul,  and  fit  it  for  a  higher,  and  a  holier  service,  in  the 
heavenly  temple. 

"  *0  most  delightful  hour  by  man 
Experienced  here  below; 
That  hour  which  terminates  his  span, 
His  sorrow  and  his  woe.' 

"  14:th.  Not  so  weak  this  morning,  but  able  to  accom- 
plish little  in  the  way  of  study.  Prepared  and  attended 
my  meeting.  This  is  always  a  refreshment.  I  was  en- 
abled to  speak  with  earnestness  and  feeling  on  the  mercy 
and  the  justice  of  our  God.  My  breathing  a  good  deal 
affected  to-night  in  walking.  Though  the  night  is  wet,  I 
feel  better  since  I  have  been  out." 

How  delightful  it  is  to  find,  that  to  the  very  last,  he 
laboured  in  his  Master's  service,  and  seemed  to  derive 
fresh  strength  from  doing  the  will  of  God. 

To  his  friend  Tate,  he  wrote  the  following  interesting 
letter,  on  the  19th  of  December :  — 

"  Tennoch  Side,  December  19,  1826. 
"  My  dear  Brother  —  This  world,  through  which  we 
are  passing,  is  a  desert,  and  no  wonder  that  its  dreariness 
should  depress  our  spirits.  Our  souls  too  are  suffering 
under  a  loathsome  disease  ;  and  if  we  are  sensible  of  its 
loathsomeness,  no  wonder  that  we  sometimes  abhor  our 
ownselves.    But  the  desert  through  which  we  travel,  leads 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART.  251 

to  our  home,  and  we  have  an  all  powerful  remedy  for  the 
disease  that  preys  upon  our  souls.  True,  sin  will  strug- 
gle on,  and  the  old  man  will  fight  for  the  mastery,  as  long 
as  he  may,  but  we  shall  soon  leave  the  wilderness,  and  all 
its  sufferings,  behind  us.  Strange  that  we  should  ever 
wish  to  linger.     You  remember  that  beautiful  hymn ;  — 

* '  There  is  a  land  of  pure  delight, 
Where  saints  immortal  reign ; 
Infinite  day  excludes  the  night, 
And  pleasures  banish  pain. 

There  everlasting  spring  abides, 

And  never-withering  flowers : 
Death,  like  a  narrow  sea,  divides, 

This  heavenly  land  from  ours. 

Sweet  fields  beyond  the  swelling  flood 

Stand  dressed  in  living  green  : 
So  to  the  Jews  old  Canaan  stood. 

While  Jordan  rolled  between. 

But  timorous  mortals  start  and  shrink 

To  cross  this  narrow  sea. 
And  linger,  shivering  on  the  brink. 

And  fear  to  launch  away. 

Could  we  but  climb  where  Moses  stood  ; 

And  view  the  landscape  o'er ; 
Not  Jordan's  stream,  —  nor  death's  cold  flood, 

Should  fright  us  from  the  shore.' 

"  I  had  a  letter  from  our  dear  Craik,  a  few  days  before 
I  received  your  last.  He  talks  of  being  a  missionary. 
Brown  and  he  think  of  Ireland.  I  should  think  them  well 
fitted  for  debate,  especially  Henry.  I  fear  some  one  must 
be  found  to  supply  my  place  among  the  number  of  in- 


252  MEMOIE    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

tending  missionaries.  You  know  that  I  have  not  been  bent 
from  what  I  thought  the  course  of  duty,  by  the  arguments 
of  men ;  but  now  God  has  spoken  in  a  way  which  I 
think,  (but  I  am  not  sure,)  is  decisive.  I  have  been  sickly 
for  some  weeks,  and  it  turns  out  to  be  inflammation  of  the 
liver.  I  have  been  taking  the  usual  course  of  mercurial 
pills  for  some  days,  and  the  Doctor  orders  the  side  to  be 
blistered  to-morrow.  I  wished  to  write  before  I  am  quite 
laid  up,  chiefly  to  request  you  to  tell  me  all  about  St. 
Andrew's  when  you  return.  I  hoped  to  have  visited  it 
soon,  but  the  Lord  has  determined  otherwise.  Pray  for 
me,  that  whether  death  or  life  be  in  this  cup,  the  Lord 
may  enable  me  to  drink  it  with  cheerfulness.  Remember 
that  I  am  literally  in  a  land  of  strangers.  Not  a  single 
Christian  friend  to  whisper  consolation,  none  to  whom  I 
can  pour  forth  the  feelings  of  my  soul.  Remember  me 
A^ery  afl"ectionately  to  my  dear  Rentoul,  in  whom  I  feel  a 
very  peculiar  interest.  My  old  companion,  William  Adam, 
I  expected  to  have  heard  from.  I  have  others,  in  my 
mind,  but  I  am  wearied.  My  chief  pain  is  in  my  right 
arm  and  side.  Do  not  speak  of  my  illness  at  St.  Andrew's, 
as  the  report  might  reach  home,  and  I  have  not  yet 
written." 

Whether  the  means  resorted  to,  were  those  best  suited 
to  his  case,  I  pretend  not  to  say ;  but  while  a  partial  re- 
covery was  efl*ected,  the  disease  would  seem  still  to  have 
gone  on.  To  his  esteemed  friend,  Craik,  at  Exeter,  he 
wrote  at  difi'erent  times,  the  following  letter :  — 

"  Tennoch  Side,  December,  1826. 
I  have  to  thank  you,  my  dear  brother,  for  two  affection- 
ate letters,  since  I  wrote  last.     Your  last  was  a  letter  of 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    UEQUHART.  253 

mourning,  and  jet  it  refreshed  me  much,  and  comforted 
me.  It  Avas  but  a  day  or  two  after,  that  I  had  a  letter 
from  our  dear  friend  Tait,  breathing  the  same  strain  of 
lamentation  for  worldliness,  and  panting  after  a  closer 
walk  with  God.  We  are  all  one  family,  my  brother,  and 
what  wonder  that  the  feelings  of  our  hearts  are  one,  while 
banished  from  our  home,  and  wandering  amid  dangers, 
fighting  with  powerful  enemies,  and  surrounded  by  strang- 
ers who  know  us  not,  or  who  know  us  only  to  hate  us. 
But  let  us  take  courage.  '  The  night  is  far  spent,  the 
day  is  at  hand.'  Weeping  may  endure  for  a  night ;  but 
joy  will  come  in  the  morning.  It  is  not  always  by  light, 
and  faith,  and  joy,  that  the  Lord  answers  prayer  for 
spirituality  of  mind.  There  is  great  truth  in  that  hymn 
of  Newton's,  — 

"  '  I  asked  the  Lord  that  I  might  grow 
In  faith,  and  love,  and  every  grace ; 
Might  more  of  his  salvation  know, 
And  seek  more  earnestly  his  face. 

I  hoped  that  in  some  favoured  hour. 

At  once  he'd  answer  my  request ; 
And  by  his  love's  constraining  power, 

Subdue  my  sins  and  give  me  rest. 

Instead  of  this,  he  made  me  feel 

The  hidden  evils  of  my  heart ; 
And  let  the  angry  powers  of  hell 

Assault  my  soul  in  every  part. 

Lord,  why  is  this?   I  trembling  cried  ; 

Wilt  thou  pursue  thy  worm  to  death  ? 
*  'Tis  in  this  way,'  the  Lord  replied, 

I  answer  prayer  for  grace  and  faith. 

22 


254  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

These  inward  trials  I  employ, 

From  self  and  pride  to  set  thee  free; 

And  break  thy  schemes  of  earthly  joy, 
That  thou  may'st  seek  thy  all  in  me/ 

"  Why  does  God  leave  us  so  long  in  a  world  of  sin  ? 
Why  were  his  ancient  people  forty  years  in  travelling 
through  the  wilderness  ?  Why  are  we  exposed  to  so  many 
temptations  ?  It  is  because  he  will  not  only  deliver  us, 
but  will  show  us  the  horror  of  that  state,  from  which  we 
have  been  delivered.  And  the  more  we  know  of  our  own 
vileness,  shall  not  our  praise  be  the  louder,  when  we  join 
in  that  glorious  anthem,  ^  Unto  him  that  loved  us  V 

"I  have  been  a  mourner  too.  New  circumstances  have 
presented  new  temptations,  and  the  Lord  has  shown  me 
my  utter  weakness.  Once,  I  thought  my  heart  could  not 
be  viler  than  I  knew  it  to  be  ;  but  God  has  led  me,  as  he 
did  his  prophet  of  old,  from  one  scene  of  iniquity  to  an- 
other ;  and  when  I  have  thought  that  now  I  have  seen  all, 
he  has  opened  some  secret  place  within  my  breast,  and 
showed  me  '  greater  abominations  still.'  Nor  am  I  sure, 
that  I  know  yet  the  depths  of  iniquity  that  are  within  me. 
How  easy  to  pass  among  men  as  pious  and  holy !  They 
compare  themselves  among  themselves.  You  talk  about 
passing  the  Rubicon,  my  dear  brother.  The  river  of 
death  is  the  Kubicon.  Not  till  we  have  passed  it,  shall  we 
be  completely  freed  from  the  world,  and  from  its  cares. 
I  say  this,  because  I  remember  feeling,  as  I  think  you  do. 
I  thought,  did  I  decidedly  give  up  the  hope  of  worldly 
honours  and  comforts,  by  deciding  on  the  missionary  life, 
I  should  no  more  be  harassed  by  the  cares,  or  allured  by 
the  vanities  of  earth.  But  it  is  not  ^o.  To  think  much 
of  the  Saviour  is  the  only  way  to  be  made  like  him.     I 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUIIART.  255 

like  mnch  your  plan  regarding  Ireland.  I  do  think  your 
talents,  and  also  those  of  our  friend  Brown,  are  quite  of  a 
cast  for  it.  It  has  been  urged  much  upon  me,  but  you 
know  well  I  am  not  the  person  for  such  a  scene.  You  ask 
me  concerning  my  plans.  I  have  no  plan  at  present.  If 
Colonel  Moreland  goes  to  Edinburgh  in  April,  I  may  pro- 
bably stay  a  little  longer  with  him.  Some  information  I 
got  to-day,  has  distressed  me  a  good  deal,  as  it  makes  me 
fear  that  I  shall  never  be  fit  for  a  vrarm  climate.  I  have 
been  drooping  and  sickly  for  some  weeks.  To-day,  the 
doctor  has  come  from  Glasgow,  and  pronounces  my  illness 
an  affection  of  the  liver.  He  thinks  there  is  no  inflamma- 
tion, and  that  a  course  of  medicine  will  remove  this  attack. 
I  am  able  to  go  about,  though  not  very  fit  for  study,  and 
have  merely  a  slight  pain,  like  rheumatism,  in  my  arm 
and  side.  Rentoul,  Alexander,  Duff,  and  Trail,  are  in 
St.  Andrew's.  From  John  Adam,  I  have  not  heard  since 
I  wrote  you.  My  meeting  here  is  confined  to  young  peo- 
j)le,  thirteen  or  fourteen  attend.  There  is  no  village. 
They  come  from  scattered  cottages.  Of  course,  I  do  not 
preach,  I  talk  to  them.  My  meeting  with  them  always 
refreshes  and  invigorates  me.  We  go,  perhaps,  to  Dysart, 
at  Christmas.  I  may,  perhaps,  have  an  opportunity  of 
visiting  St.  Andrew's." 

"  This  is  Christmas-day,  and  it  is  well  for  me  the  family 
have  not  moved.  John  Adam  has  written  me  lately ;  he 
is  well,  and  goes  on  with  his  plan  of  preaching  occa- 
sionally. 

"  The  other  part  of  this  letter  was  written  a  consider- 
able time  ago ;  but  I  thought  it  better,  since  I  had  men- 
tioned my  illness,  not  to  send  it  off,  till  I  should  see  what 


256  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

the  issue  miglit  be.  Decided  symptoms  of  inflammation 
soon  appeared  ;  but  I  am  glad  to  say,  that  the  Lord  has 
blessed  the  means  employed  to  remove  the  disease.  At 
least,  we  think  so  at  present.  You  must  excuse  me  for 
not  writing  more,  as  I  am  excessively  weak.  I  have  ate 
very  little,  and  have  been  allowed  to  cat  nothing  nourish- 
ing for  some  time.  Add  to  this,  that  I  have  had  a  good 
deal  of  medicine,  and  a  blister  on  my  side,  and  you  will 
not  wonder  that  I  am  much  reduced.  I  can  add  no  more 
at  present,  but  that  I  am  ever  your  friend  and  brother  in 
the  strongest  bonds." 

The  last  letter  he  wrote  was  to  his  father,  though  the 
painful  event  that  so  soon  followed,  w^as  then  little  an- 
ticipated. 

"Tennoch  Side,  December  27,  1826. 
"  My  dear  Father  —  Christmas  is  past,  and  I  am 
afraid  you  will  be  expecting  me.  This  is  the  reason,  I 
suppose,  that  my  many  letters  have  produced  no  answers. 
The  family  do  not  go  to  Dysart ;  and,  in  my  present  cir- 
cumstances, that  has  been  a  great  blessing  to  me.  I  may 
venture  to  tell  you,  now  that  I  am  better,  that  I  have  had 
rather  a  serious  illness,  inflammation  of  the  liver.  I  had 
been  very  weak  for  some  time,  loathing  food,  and  op- 
pressed with  a  pain  in  my  arm  and  side,  which  I  called 
rheumatism.  Mrs.  Moreland  had  the  kindness  to  send  for 
the  doctor  of  the  regiment,  who  prescribed  great  absti- 
nence ;  the  blue  pill  to  be  taken  every  night ;  and,  lastly, 
a  large  blister  for  the  right  side.  It  has  pleased  God  to 
bless  these  means  for  the  removal  of  the  disease.  Of 
course,  I  am  very  much  reduced.     I  have  been  treated 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART.  257 

with  as  much  kindness  as  if  I  had  been  at  home,  by  the 
house-keeper  especially,  who  always  dressed  my  blister, 
and  watched  me  like  a  mother.  I  could  not  have  looked 
for  such  kindness  in  a  land  of  strangers.  The  Lord  can 
raise  up  friends  wherever  we  are ;  but  I  have  had  no  Chris- 
tian to  whom  I  could  open  my  heart.  But  the  Lord  i^ 
here.    With  love  to  all,  I  am  ever  your  affectionate  son." 

This  letter  was  written  when  he  must  have  been  very 
ill,  as  he  found  it  necessary  to  leave  Colonel  Moreland's 
on  the  second  or  third  of  January,  with  a  view  to  return 
home.  He  got  as  far  as  Glasgow ;  and,  under  the  hospit- 
able roof  of  Mr.  Ewing,  received  that  kind  welcome, 
which  had  invariably  been  shown  him,  from  the  first  period 
of  his  acquaintance  with  that  excellent  family.  The  fol- 
lowing letters,  addressed  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Ewing,  to  his 
father,  are  important,  as  they  show  the  progress  of  the 
complaint,  the  means  which  were  employed  to  arrest  it, 
and  the  deep  interest  which  they  took  in  the  amiable 
sufferer. 

"Glasgow,  January  5,  1827. 
"  My  dear  Sir  —  I  am  sorry  to  inform  you,  that  your 
son  came  to  us  tw^o  days  ago,  rather  in  a  poor  state 
of  health.  I  suppose  he  must  have  informed  you,  some 
weeks  ago,  of  his  having  pain  in  his  side,  for  which  the 
regimental  surgeon,  (who  seems  a  very  respectable  man,) 
ordered  a  course  of  mercury;  that  is  now  finished,  but 
seems  to  have  reduced  our  young  friend  to  a  state  of 
great  weakness.  Nevertheless  the  doctor  says  he  sees 
no  cause  for  alarm,  as  there  is  little  or  no  fever  in  his 
pulse ;  but  there  is  no  getting  him  to  follow  advice  in 
22* 


258  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

taking  his  food.  This  the  doctor  thinks  will  prevent  him 
from  recovering  strength  till  he  can  go  home,  which  he 
thinks  he  may  do,  if  he  gets  into  the  coach,  and  takes  a 
little  warm  brandy  and  water  once  or  twice  on  the  road. 
At  Tennoch  Side,  he  became  hypochondriac,  and  would  eat 
nothing  till  it  was  out  of  season.  We  hoped  he  would 
have  cheered  up  a  little  here,  from  conversation  and 
nourishment ;  but  I  am  sorry  to  say  we  are  disappointed, 
I  think  it  my  duty,  therefore,  to  beg,  that  if  possible, 
either  you  or  his  mother  will  come  here  in  the  beginning 
of  the  week,  to  endeavour  to  prevail  with  him  to  take 
nourishment,  and  to  consult  with  his  medical  attendant 
what  is  best  to  be  done.  The  doctor  declares  he  sees 
nothing  but  the  flatulency  of  an  empty  stomach  that 
should  prevent  him  from  eating.  After  all,  I  shall  not  be 
surprised  if  he  propose  going  to-morrow  by  the  coach,  for 
he  did  so  last  night,  but  not  till  the  places  had  been  all 
taken.  Yet,  if  he  persist  in  neglecting  his  food,  he  can- 
not get  better.  I  grieve  to  write  thus,  but  we  are  quite 
at  a  loss,  for  we  cannot  urge  him  ;  and  he  does  not  appear 
to  be  at  present  a  good  judge  in  his  own  case.  I  am  writ- 
ing without  his  knowledge,  for  when  I  proposed  it  before, 
he  refused  to  let  me." 

"  Glasgow,  January  5,  1827. 
"  My  deae  Sir  —  Since  writing  to  you  in  the  forenoon, 
Mr.  Ewing  (who  has  been  obliged  to  go  to  the  church- 
meeting)  thinks  I  should  write  to  go  by  the  seven  o'clock 
coach,  by  which  you  might  expect  your  son,  to  say  he  has 
never  spoken  of  it  again  this  day  at  all ;  and  that  though 
his  pulse  is  down,  we  do  not  think  him  better,  and  feel  at 
a  loss  how  to  manage  him.     The  doctor  says  he  should 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUIIAUT.  259 

not  lie  in  bed,  but  we  cannot  persuade  liim  to  make  any 
exertion.  Tlie  doctor  says  he  must  eat,  and  it  is  almost 
by  compulsion,  and  never  but  when  one  of  us  in  a  manner 
insists  and  holds  it  to  him,  that  he  takes  anything.  We 
hope,  therefore,  you  will  come,  as  the  doctor  assures  us 
he  is  quite  able  for  the  journey.  We  should  feel  it  quite 
distressing  to  let  him  go  alone,  and  shall  feel  very  anxious 
till  you  come.  At  the  same  time  let  me  assure  you, 
we  have  not  concealed  any  circumstance  from  you.  The 
doctor  says  his  pulse  is  seventy-two  only.  He  appears 
to  me,  as  I  have  seen  people,  highly  hysterical.  We  are 
sorry  to  give  you  all  this  anxiety,  knowing  what  must  be 
felt  for  such  a  son ;  but  we  feel  it  a  matter  of  duty,  and 
doing  as  we  would  be  done  by.  Lieutenant-Colonel  More- 
land  called  to-day  with  the  doctor ;  all  that  family  seem 
to  have  paid  him  uncommon  attention." 

His  father,  it  may  be  supposed,  lost  no  time  in  proceed- 
ing to  Glasgow ;  but  before  he  could  reach  it,  the  most 
melancholy  progress  had  been  made  by  the  fatal  disease. 
Other  medical  aid  had  been  called  in,  and  that  which  had 
been  supposed  to  be  an  affection  of  the  liver,  was  discov- 
ered to  be  an  affection  of  the  brain,  on  which  an  effusion 
had  taken  place,  which  accounts  for  the  comatose  state  into 
which  he  had  been  sinking  for  some  days,  till  at  last  it 
had  deprived  him  of  all  consciousness,  and  left  no  hope  of 
a  recovery. 

My  esteemed  friend,  Mrs.  Ewing,  who  watched  his 
dying  bed  with  a  mother's  anxiety,  has  furnished  me  with 
a  full  and  interesting  account  of  his  last  days,  which,  to- 
gether with  the  additional  information  supplied  by  her 
valued  relative  Miss  Cathcart,  who  also  acted  the  part  of 


2G0  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

a  tender  nurse,  the  reader  I  am  sure,  will  be  pleased  to 
receive  in  their  own  words,  although  their  letters  contain 
a  slight  repetition  in  some  particulars. 

"  Glasgow,  April,  7,  1827. 
"  After  Colonel  Moreland's  family  returned  at  the  end 
of  October,  I  think  from  Lord  Rosslyn's,  young  Urquhart 
was  only  one  Sabbath  with  us,  and  then  said  he  had  been 
a  good  deal  troubled  with  his  stomach.  When  Dr.  Marsh- 
man  was  here,  I  wrote  to  ask  him  to  meet  him  at  dinner. 
He  wrote,  I  might  guess  his  disappointment  at  not  being 
able  to  come  seven  miles  to  see  him,  when  he  had  gone 
to  London  to  see  Dr.  Morrison.  The  surgeon  of  the 
cavalry  told  me  he  had  had  a  threatening  of  inflammation 
of  the  liver,  for  which  he  had  given  him  Dover's  powders, 
and  blue  pill,  but  this  Mr.  Urquhart  had  mistaken  for  a 
course  of  mercury.  He  came  in  here  on  the  Wednesday 
preceding  the  one  on  which  he  died,  and  seemed  very 
weak  and  much  worn  out  with  the  drive ;  but  told  me  he 
was  now  quite  free  of  pain  or  complaint,  except  weakness 
and  sickness  when  he  took  food.  He  said  he  had  been  so 
very  ill,  that  though  he  never  was  insensible,  he  had  felt 
what  he  never  had  before,  that  he  could  not  pronounce 
the  words  he  wished  to  say.  He  appeared  to  me  highly 
nervous,  and  till  his  illness  took  a  more  serious  turn,  I 
had  the  idea  which  the  medical  attendant  confirmed,  that 
it  was  a  hysterical  case,  from  weakness.  Both  the  sur- 
geon and  himself  thought  he  was  able  for  the  journey  to 
Perth,  but  he  was  persuaded  to  stop  till  the  Friday,  and 
take  one  day's  rest.  No  ticket  was  to  be  had  providen- 
tially for  Friday :  for  we  should  have  attributed  his  illness 
and  death  to  the  journey,  had  he  gone.     But  it  is  very 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    UEQUIIART.  261 

probable,  though  the  ticket  had  been  got  he  could  not 
have  been  conveyed  to  the  coach,  as  we  could  never  get 
him  to  set  up  after  the  Thursday  night ;  though  he  told 
the  doctor  he  was  better,  and  that  he  had  had  five  hours' 
sleep.  His  pulse  also  was  better  that  day.  That  night, 
however,  we  thought  him  worse,  and  got  a  careful  sick 
nurse,  in  whom  we  could  confide,  to  be  in  his  room  all 
night.  It  was  two  next  day  when  the  surgeon  called, 
and  when  I  told  him  that  he  ate  and  drank  what  we  gave 
him,  but  stared  at  us  and  did  not  speak,  he  left  me  ab- 
ruptly, and  ran  up  to  his  room.  I  followed  instantly, 
being  alarmed,  and  on  examining  his  eyes  and  trying  him 
in  every  way  to  make  him  speak,  he  requested  more  assist- 
ance, and  told  us  what  the  other  medical  man  confirmed, 
that  it  was  a  very  bad  case  of  sufiiision  on  the  brain. 
His  head  was  shaved,  leeches  applied,  and  then  a  large 
blister  over  his  head,  and  one  on  his  neck.  He  continued 
quite  insensible  that  night  and  next  morning,  and  the 
medical  gentleman  then  thought  it  was  hastening  to  a 
close.  His  father  arrived  at  eleven,  but  John  did  not 
know  him  when  first  he  came.  When  Mr.  Ewing  came  in 
from  the  forenoon  service,  it  struck  me  there  was  more 
intelligence  in  Mr.  Urquhart's  face,  and  I  begged  of  him 
to  come  up  and  speak  to  him,  and  pray ;  which,  to  gratify 
me  he  did,  for  he  had  no  hope  himself,  thinking  I  fancied 
I  saw  what  I  so  eagerly  wished.  Mr.  Ewing  spoke  a  few 
sentences  on  the  hope  of  the  gospel,  as  suited  to  one  in 
the  near  prospect  of  death,  and  the  glory,  honour,  and 
immortality,  that  were  treasured  up  in  heaven  for  those 
whose  trust  was  in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ;  and  then 
prayed  for  him  as  seemingly  near  death.  You  may  be- 
lieve I  watched  narrowly  the  efi'ect  of  this,  and  observed 


262  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

him  exceedingly  agitated  and  affected.  "When  Mr.  Ewing 
finished,  his  hands,  which  he  had  not  moved  for  many 
hours,  I  saw  him  endeavouring  to  disengage  from  the  bed 
clothes,  and  therefore  I  raised  the  clothes ;  when  he 
Stretched  out  his  hand  and  pressed  Mr.  Ewing's,  and 
smiled.  Mr.  Ewing  said,  '  Do  you  know  me  ?'  When  he 
said,  '  Do  not  I  know  Mr.  Ewing  V  I  went  for  his  father, 
and  he  knew  him  and  named  him.  After  this  he  lay 
above  an  hour  quite  motionless,  but  apparently  to  me  in 
meditation  and  prayer.  At  the  end  of  that  period,  he 
observed  and  named  me,  and  said,  '  My  mind  is  quite  calm 
now.'  I  said,  I  trust  your  hope  is  fixed  on  the  Rock  of 
Ages.  He  three  times  replied  in  a  most  impressive  way, 
*  Yes  ;  my  hope  is  fixed  on  the  Bock  of  Ages.'  I  went  on 
speaking  for  a  little  in  the  same  way,  saying,  You  will  find 
it  'a  sure  foundation;'  that  Christ  is  able  to  save  to  the 
uttey-most;  that  he  is  a  very  presejit  help  in  trouble;  that 
the  hope  set  before  us  in  his  blessed  gospel,  is  a  glorious 
hope.  His  weakness  seemed  not  to  permit  him  to  say 
much,  but  he  repeated  the  emphatic  words  in  each  passage, 
in  a  tone  of  exultation  I  think  I  hear  yet,  and  with  a 
countenance  beaming  with  delight.  Knowing  the  state 
of  insensibility  from  which  he  seemed  newly  recovered,  I 
felt  a  kind  of  half  fear  at  his  only  repeating  what  I  said, 
and  stopped ;  when  he  went  on  himself  with  two  or  three 
passages,  importing  the  full  triumph  of  faith.  But  now  I 
remember  only  one ;  it  was,  '7  know  that  nothing  shall 
separate  me  from  the  love  of  God,  which  is  in  Christ  Jesus 
my  Lord ;'  but  it  is  impossible  to  convey  an  idea  of  the 
tone  and  manner.  It  made  all  in  the  room  weep  abun- 
dantly except  myself;  I  was  thankful  I  could  command 
my  feelings,  on  his  account.      We  were  not   aware  till 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART.  263 

afterwards,  that  his  mind  had,  during  the  illness  before 
Christmas,  been  extremely  depressed  ;  and  that  it  was  on 
expressing  that  to  his  young  friend,  that  the  beautiful 
lines  were  sent  that  were  something  like  prophetical  of  his 
state  before  death.  I  send  you  Jane's  letter  to  Miss 
Young,  which  will  supply  anything  else  he  said  while  able 
to  speak.  From  that  time  till  within  an  hour  or  two  of 
his  death,  and  long  after  he  ceased  to  speak  or  see,  when- 
ever he  heard  Mr.  Swing's  voice,  he  ceased  his  moaning 
or  laborious  breathing,  to  listen  ;  or  when  any  of  us  re- 
peated a  passage  of  Scripture.  When  the  medical  men 
returned  at  four  on  Sabbath,  expecting  to  find  him  very 
near  a  close  of  his  sufferings,  they  were  very  much  aston- 
ished at  the  change  in  his  sight,  and  restored  understand- 
ing and  speech  ;  and  though  they  would  not  say  they  could 
give  us  hope,  they  said  symptoms  were  better,  and  that 
he  must  not  be  excited  by  speaking,  but  kept  very  quiet. 
This  slight  hope  was  kept  up  all  Monday,  and  we  went  to 
bed  that  night  (leaving  two  to  watch  him)  with  stronger 
hope ;  but  at  four  in  the  morning  his  attendants  came  for 
me  on  his  being  greatly  worse.  At  four  in  the  afternoon 
of  Tuesday,  he  was  increasingly  worse,  and  then  death 
was  so  evidently  near,  that  both  Miss  Cathcart  and  I  sat  up 
till  after  four,  when  I  was  compelled  to  lie  down  for  two 
hours,  from  worn-out  strength.  When  I  returned  at  six 
he  was  evidently  weaker.  His  last  hour  was  while  we 
were  at  breakfast.  Miss  Cathcart  would  not  leave  the 
room,  and  I  just  entered  it  to  see  the  last  breath  drawn 
by  the  dear  young  saint. 

"  You  will  remember  first  introducing  him  to  my  hus- 
band, and  I  have  often  thought  we  owed  to  the  fondness 
of  that  interview  excited  in  both  to  each  other,  the  honour 


264  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

God  granted  us  of  having  him  to  minister  to  in  his  illness 
and  death.  He  came  first  to  this  house  when  he  arrived 
in  Glasgow,  and  we  secured  by  that,  what  any  other  family 
"would  have  done,  that  he  should  always  come  to  us  ;  and  so 
eager  were  we  to  have  him,  that  when  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Mathe- 
son  and  children  were  with  us,  after  fixing  we  should  ask 
a  bed  for  him  from  our  kind  neighbour  Mrs.  Smith,  we 
put  up  a  bed  for  him  in  the  little  dressing-room.  I  send 
you  the  letters  of  Dr.  Chalmers,  and  Mrs.  Moreland,  &c., 
and  you  know  the  universal  testimony  to  his  worth,  and 
talents,  and  piety,  and  engaging  manners.  If  there  is 
anything  further  you  wish  on  this  subject  that  I  can  sup- 
ply, it  will  give  me  satisfaction.  I  cannot  but  hope  the 
Lord  will  bless  the  memoir  to  many  souls.  Surely  such  a 
bright  star  has  not,  in  the  short  space  it  was  seen,  re- 
flected all  it  was  lighted  up  for,  of  the  glory  of  God." 

The  following  is  Miss  Cathcart's  letter,  to  which  Mrs. 
Ewing  refers :  — 

"  We  have  witnessed  a  very  painful  and  solemn  scene, 
in  the  death  of  that  dear  child  of  God.  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Ewing  felt  it  an  honour  to  administer  to  his  comfort ;  and 
it  was  a  privilege  to  myself  attending  him,  which  I  trust 
will  benefit  my  own  soul.  Much  mercy  was  mixed  with 
the  trying  dispensation.  It  was  most  providential  a  ticket 
in  the  Perth  coach  could  not  be  had ;  and  when  Mr.  Urqu- 
hart  seemed  to  regret  it,  Mr.  Ewing  said  there  was  a 
Providence  in  all  these  things ;  in  which  he  directly  acqui- 
esced. In  all  his  wanderings,  not  a  murmur  or  complaint 
was  heard.  When  he  was  collected  and  prayed  aloud,  it 
was  most  delightful  to  hear  him  pouring  out  his  heart  to 


MEMOIR    OP    JOHN    URQITHART.  265 

God  in  sucli  humble  and  scriptural  language.  I  wish  the 
self-righteous  had  heard  him  declare  that  if  he  got  where 
he  deserved  he  would  be  in  hell-fire,  and  that  he  had 
nothing  to  plead  but  the  mercy  of  God,  through  the  riglit- 
eousness  of  Christ.  At  times,  when  unable  to  speak,  he 
appeared  sensible,  by  the  placid  smile  on  his  countenance. 
When  Mr.  Ewing  was  praying,  and  when  he  mentioned 
any  of  the  cheering  promises  in  the  gospel  to  believers, 
Urquhart  would  say,  'Yes!  yes!'  with  great  emphasis. 
At  one  time  when  his  poor  father  asked  the  state  of  his 
mind,  he  replied,  'in  perfect  peace,  stayed  on  God,'  and 
repeated  a  second  time,  'stayed  on  God.'  One  morning 
he  asked  me  if  his  father  was  up.  I  asked  him  if  he  wished 
to  see  him;  he  replied,  'Yes.'  When  he  came  he  said, 
'John,  do  you  know  your  father?'  to  which  he  replied,  'I 
know  my  father ;'  and  then  Mr.  Urquhart  said,  '  I  hope 
you  know  your  Father  in  heaven,  who,  I  trust,  has  pre- 
pared a  mansion  for  you.'  I  think  the  sweet  youth  said, 
'  I  believe  there  is.'  At  another  time  when  nobody  was 
in  his  sight,  I  heard  him  say,  '  Come,  Lord  Jesus,  come 
quickly.'  When  alone  in  his  room,  but  not  that  he  could 
see  me,  he  said,  '  Who  is  there?'  I  went  to  his  bed-side, 
and  said.  Miss  Cathcart,  thinking  he  might  not  know  my 
voice ;  he  replied,  '  When  did  you  come  here  ?'  I  said  I 
have  been  with  you  all  the  time  you  have  been  ill  here, 
and  I  feed  you  with  what  you  eat ;  he  said,  '  I  am  happy 
to  have  my  friends  with  me.'  I  replied,  you  have  a  Friend 
who  sticketh  closer  than  a  brother;  'Yes,'  he  added, 
'  Jesus  Christ  is  a  friend  who  sticketh  closer  than  a  brother ; 
but  all  the  Lord's  people  are  interested  in  each  other.' 
At  times  when  we  did  not  think  he  knew  us,  he  showed 
us  he  did  by  naming  us,  or  holding  out  his  hand,  and  ex- 
23 


266  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

pressed  anxiety  for  Mrs.  Ewlng  fatiguing  herself,  by  dif- 
ferent times  saying,  '  My  beloved  Mrs.  Ewing,  lie  down 
beside  me.'  The  most  heart-rending  scene  I  ever  wit- 
nessed, was  on  the  Tuesday  night  before  his  death.  Mr. 
Urquhart  came  into  the  room,  and  at  the  bed-side  gave 
up  in  prayer  his  son  to  the  Lord,  when  all  the  yearning 
of  the  afflicted  parent  was  expressed,  and  the  submission 
of  the  Christian  exemplified.  Some  present  thought  John 
sensible  and  agitated,  but  I  was  so  much  distressed  myself 
that  I  did  not  observe.  The  poor  father  is  much  to  be 
pitied,  who  says  he  has  lost  his  child,  son,  friend,  counsel- 
lor, and  comforter.  My  friend  Mrs.  Smith's  husband, 
told  me  he  had  never  been  at  a  funeral  where  such  a  feel- 
ing of  regret  was  shown.  The  sick-nurse  and  the  servants 
paid  him  the  greatest  attention,  and  many  tears  they  shed 
for  him.  He  told  us  how  very  kind  Colonel  and  Mrs. 
Moreland  had  been  to  him ;  also  that  the  housekeeper  had 
been  quite  like  a  mother  to  him  during  his  illness." 

His  death  took  place  on  Wednesday,  the  10th  of  Janu- 
ary, 1827,  when  he  was  only  eighteen  years  and  six 
months  old.  His  career  was  short,  but  interesting,  useful, 
and  glorious.  However  mysterious  it  may  appear  to  us, 
it  was  doubtless  well  with  him;  and  Christ,  who  was  gain 
to  him  in  life,  proved  to  him  gain  in  death  also.  His 
course  was  calm,  holy,  and  consistent ;  its  termination  was 
peaceful  and  happy,  It  was  improved  by  Mr.  Ewing,  on 
the  following  Lord's  day,  from  Psalm  cxvi.  15.  "  Precious 
in  the  sight  of  the  Lord,  is  the  death  of  his  saints."  It 
produced,  among  many  others,  the  following  letter  from 
Dr.  Chalmers,  to  his  father :  — 


^  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUIIART.  267 

"  St.  Andrew's,  January  15,  1827. 

"  My  dear  Sir  —  I  cannot  refrain  from  offering  my  con- 
dolence on  the  late  melancholy  bereavement,  wherewith  it 
hath  pleased  a  mysterious  Providence  to  visit  you.  I  re- 
ceived the  intelligence,  by  a  letter  from  Mr.  E^^^ng,  which 
I  circulated  among  the  numerous  friends  and  acquaint- 
ances of  your  son  in  this  place.  His  death  has  created  a 
great  sensation  among  his  fellow-students,  by  whom  he 
was  held  in  the  highest  reverence  and  regard ;  which  feel- 
ings were  shared  also  by  the  Professors  ;  several  of  whom 
I  heard  expressing  their  utmost  regret,  and  affirming  him 
to  be  the  most  distinguished,  in  point  of  ability  and  good 
conduct,  of  all  the  disciples  who  ever  attended  them.  I 
yesterday  communicated  the  afflicting  intelligence  to  the 
children  of  uiy  Sabbath-school.  They  both  knew  and 
loved  him,  he  having  taken  charge  of  their  religious  in- 
struction for  one  session  of  College.  They  were  evidently 
affected  by  the  melancholy  news. 

''  To  your  Christian  mind,  there  is  a  far  richer  consola- 
tion than  that  which  is  afforded  by  the  report,  or  the  re- 
membrance of  his  first-rate  talents ;  talents  which  would 
have  raised  him  to  the  highest  summits  of  learning  and 
philosophy,  had  he  not  wished  to  consecrate  them  all  to 
the  service  of  his  Redeemer.  Your  best,  and  most  pre- 
cious comforts,  under  this  heavy  dispensation,  are  to  be 
drawn  from  the  consideration  of  that  faith,  by  which  he 
was  actuated ;  of  that  grace  which  animated  his  heart  and 
adorned  his  history ;  of  that  glory,  for  the  enjoyment  of 
which  he  was  so  ripened  and  prepared ;  in  a  word,  of  that 
promise,  that  they  who  sleep  in  Jesus,  shall  meet  again  in 
that  country,  where  sorrow  and  separation  are  alike  un- 
known. 


268  MEMom  or  john  urquhart. 

"Few  parents  are  called  to  sustain  so  severe  a  loss  as 
you  have  now  done ;  but  with  few,  very  few  indeed,  is  the 
loss  tempered  by  such  precious  alleviations. 
"  I  am,  my  dear  sir, 

"  Yours,  with  sympathy  and  regard, 
"  Thomas  Chalmers." 

The  following  lines  addressed  to  him  by  one  of  his 
correspondents,  were,  indeed,  sadly  prophetical  of  the 
event  which  so  soon  after  took  place.  They  are  simple, 
and  beautifully  descriptive  of  the  feelings,  not  of  the  wri- 
ter only,  but  of  his  friend,  and  strikingly  applicable  to 
his  last  closing  scene. 

2  Timothy  iv.  6. 

"  The  Christian  Pilgrim  bid  depart, 
Departs  without  a  sigh, 
Fear  can  no  longer  chill  his  heart. 
Or  sorrow  dim  his  eye. 

In  Heaven's  own  garments  see  him  stand 

On  death's  much  dreaded  shore, 
He  gazes  on  the  promised  land, 

And  seems  already  o'er. 

/ 
We  saw  him  oft  betray  a  fear 

As  near  this  flood  he  drew ; 
But  now  a  willing  pilgrim  here, 

He  kindles  at  the  view. 

A  ray  hath  broke  from  Canaan's  land, 

Across  that  sullen  flood : 
It  bids  him  quit  his  mortal  strand, 

And  onward  march  to  God. 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUIIART.  269 

He  marches  on,  for  now  his  eye 

Hath  lost  life's  lurid  ray, 
As  suns  which  quit  a  clouded  sky 

To  shine  in  brighter  day. 

Oh  could  we  catch  a  moment's  view, 

Of  what  he  now  must  know, 
Sorrow  would  fill  our  spirits  too, 

To  linger  thus  below." 

I  feel  as  if  I  had  now  filled  my  allotted  task ;  and  that 
it  is  better  to  draw  this  narrative  to  a  close,  than  by 
attempting  anything  in  the  shape  of  character,  to  deprive 
the  reader  of  the  impression,  which  the  facts  themselves, 
and  the  concluding  scene,  are  fitted  to  produce.  But  I 
cannot  abstain  from  a  few  concluding  observations. 

To  me,  the  undertaking  has  been  one  of  a  very  painful, 
and,  at  the  same  time,  pleasing  nature;  partaking  as 
much  of  the  mixed  feeling,  which  the  poet  describes,  as 
*«the  joy  of  grief,"  as  anything  which  has  ever  engaged 
my  attention.  How  much  I  loved  him,  I  have  not  ven- 
tured, nor  will  I  now  venture  to  express.  That  he  was 
entitled  to  it  all,  and  to  more  than  all,  I  am  well  con- 
vinced. If  I  felt  towards  him  all  the  affection  of  a  father, 
he  repaid  it  with  all  the  tenderness  and  confidence  of  a 
son.  I  feel  as  if  the  world  had  become,  by  his  death,  less 
an  object  of  interest  to  me  than  it  was  ;  but  I  trust  I  have 
also  been  made  to  feel,  in  common  with  many  of  his 
devoted  friends,  that  the  attractions  of  a  better  world 
have  been  multiplied  and  strengthened,  by  his  removal 
thither. 

Afraid  to  trust  myself  in  describing  his  character  and 
attainments,  lest  my  personal  feelings  might  be  supposed 


270  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

to  have  too  powerfully  influenced  my  judgment,  I  have 
interspersed  the  opinions  and  testimonies  of  others,  with 
my  own  statements,  and  the  papers  of  the  deceased. 
These  testimonies  I  have  not  nearly  exhausted  ;  nor  is  it 
possible  for  me  to  convey  an  adequate  idea  of  the  extent 
to  which  he  was  beloved  and  admired  by  all  who  knew 
him.  The  SAveetness  of  his  natural  disposition,  and  the 
bewitching  simplicity  of  his  manners ;  the  soundness  of 
his  judgment,  and  the  fertility  of  his  imagination  ;  the 
ardor  of  his  pursuit  of  science  and  literature,  with  the 
variety  and  accuracy  of  his  attainments,  rendered  him 
one  of  the  most  extraordinary  individuals  of  his  years. 
When  with  these,  are  combined  his  extensive  knowledge 
of  the  mystery  of  redemption,  and  of  the  sacred  volume ; 
his  simplicity  of  aim,  with  the  fixed  and  intense  ardor  of 
his  zeal ;  his  love  to  the  souls  of  others,  which  made  him 
ready  to  lay  his  learning,  his  talents,  his  genius,  and  his 
life,  at  the  foot  of  the  cross,  and  to  abandon  the  country 
where  he  might  have  shone  and  triumphed,  for  scenes  of 
foreign  labour  and  suffering ;  the  eminent  spirituality  of 
his  mind,  the  consistency  of  deportment,  and  maturity  of 
character  and  experience,  at  which  he  arrived,  I  need 
scarcely  add,  he  presented  an  uncommonly  rare  assemblage 
of  natural,  acquired,  and  Christian  excellencies.  Of  the 
truth  of  this  representation,  every  reader  has  now  been 
furnished  with  the  means  of  judging  for  himself;  and  I 
safely  leave  with  him  the  conclusion  to  be  drawn. 

His  Christian  character  is  that  on  which  the  mind  now 
reposes,  with  the  greatest  satisfaction.  As  it  regards  his 
other  attainments,  "literature  has  failed,  tongues  have 
ceased,"  and  "knowledge  has  vanished  away."  What  he 
w^as  as  a  linguist,  and  a  mathematician,  might  have  been 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART.  271 

of  importance,  had  he  lived  ;  what  he  was  as  a  believer  in 
Jesus,  is  the  only  thing  of  importance  to  him  now.  He 
has  attained  to  the  perfect  state,  and  experiences  a  high 
degree  of  that  felicity,  which  he  could  so  well  describe, 
and  which  he  so  earnestly  panted  to  enjoy. 

"If  I  might  be  allowed,"  says  a  correspondent,  to 
whom  one  of  his  last  letters  was  addressed,  "  to  say  any- 
thing, from  the  acquaintance  I  had  with  him — and  there 
was  scarce  a  day,  last  winter,  in  which  I  was  not  some 
time  with  him — I  would  say  of  him,  as  his  biographer  said 
of  Henry  Martyn,  'A  more  perfect  Christian  character  I 
never  knew.'  Like  Martyn,  indeed,  it  might  be  said  of 
him,  '  His  symmetry  in  the  Christian  stature,  was  as  sur- 
prising as  its  height.'  I  never  saw  a  finer  example  of  'a 
living  sacrifice ;'  he  seemed,  indeed,  to  reckon  himself  not 
his  own,  but  bought  with  a  price,  and,  as  such,  he  was 
entirely  devoted  to  the  glory  of  God.  Nor  did  he  care 
what  perils,  or  sufferings,  he  underwent,  if  so  be  that  that 
object  might  be  promoted.  In  this  cause,  even  death  did 
not  appal  him.  I  remember  well,  when  he  thought  of 
China  as  a  scene  of  missionary  labour ;  and  when  he  was 
told  that  the  government  positively  prohibited  the  mis- 
sionaries from  preaching  in  that  country,  he  said,  he  should 
conceive  it  his  duty  to  transgress  this  prohibition ;  and  if 
his  death  was  the  consequence,  let  it  be  so ;  the  blood  of 
a  missionary  sometimes  advanced  the  cause,  as  much  as 
his  long  life  and  labours.  Think  of  such  devotion  in  a 
youth  of  eighteen,  whose  rare  talents  and  unquestioned 
Christian  character,  gave  him  the  fairest  prospect  of  use- 
fulness and  comfort  in  his  native  land,  while  they  would 
have  infallibly  secured  to  him  the  admiration  and  afiection 


272  MEMom  or  john  urquhart. 

of  all  -who  knew  him.  He  was  eminently  spiritually- 
minded.  No  one  ever  felt  more  the  burden  of  indwelling 
sin,  and  never  did  captive  exile  long  more  earnestly  to  be 
loosed,  than  he  did  for  deliverance  from  its  taint  and  its 
power.  Hence  he  dwelt  much  on  the  holiness  of  heaven. 
It  was  the  theme,  he  has  often  assured  me,  of  his  refresh- 
ing meditation,  when  his  mind  was  depressed,  as  he  looked 
forward  to  the  perils,  and  sufferings,  and  privations,  which 
he  might  be  called  to  undergo  in  this  world.  I  remember 
one  day,  while  I  was  with  him,  his  telling  me,  that  while 
reading  the  Scriptures  that  morning,  on  this  his  favourite 
subject,  his  mind  was  so  wrapt  in  contemplation,  that  he 
forgot,  for  the  moment,  where  he  was ;  till,  when  his  con- 
sciousness returned,  on  looking  into  his  own  heart,  polluted 
with  sin,  and  then  into  the  world  around  him,  'lying  in 
the  wicked  one,'  he  burst  into  tears.  He  was  possessed 
of  much  tenderness  of  spiritual  feeling,  and  was  most 
vividly  impressed  by  every  Scripture  truth  which  he 
received.  In  one  respect,  much  of  the  same  mind  dwelt 
in  him,  which  was  in  Christ  Jesus :  he  felt  much  for  his 
brethren  of  mankind,  and  his  heart  bled  for  the  condition 
of  those  who  were  not  in  Christ ;  yet  was  he  possessed 
with  the  keenest  indignation  at  iniquity,  and  every  exhi- 
bition of  it  provoked  his  holy  abhorrence.  His  was  a 
character  most  exquisitely  formed  for  Christian  friend- 
ship. Possessed  naturally  of  the  most  amiable  disposi- 
tions, they  were  rendered  still  more  so  by  the  Spirit  of 
God  which  dwelt  in  him.  In  his  friends,  he  encouraged 
the  most  unbounded  confidence ;  and  his  was  a  heart,  into 
which,  when  distressed  or  disgusted,  they  could  unbosom 
every  thought  which  grieved  them,  and  find  a  balsam  for 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    DRQUIIART.  273 

every  wound.     I  speak  not  tliis  at  random.     I  know  it 
from  sweet  experience." 

I  cannot  conclude  the  memoir  of  my  beloved  friend, 
without  once  more  soliciting  the  attention  of  the  reader 
to  the  prominent  feature  of  his  religion  and  of  his  reli- 
gious character,  —  his  devoted  zeal  to  the  glory  of  Christ 
in  combination  with  the  salvation  of  men.  It  is  obvious, 
that,  to  diffuse  the  knowledge  of  the  gospel  in  the  world, 
constituted  his  life  and  happiness.  The  subject  pervades 
all  his  papers,  runs  through  all  his  letters,  and  at  length, 
entirely  engrossed  his  thoughts.  In  his  case,  it  was 
nothing  assumed  or  professed,  but  something  growing  out 
of  the  very  principles  of  his  faith,  and  constituting  a 
chief  element  in  his  religion.  He  had  no  conception  of 
Christianity,  apart  from  the  love  of  extending  it.  That 
wdiich  constituted  its  glory,  in  his  eyes,  was  its  perfect 
adaptation  to  the  wants  and  wretchedness  of  men ;  and 
the  more  he  knew  the  evil,  and  the  better  he  became 
acquainted  with  the  remedy,  the  more  powerfully  he  felt 
the  obligation  to  preach  the  gospel  to  every  creature. 

His  devotedness,  therefore,  was  not  so  much  an  act  of 
obedience  to  a  law,  as  the  operation  of  the  great  principle 
of  the  new  economy,  and  of  the  new  nature,  love  —  grate- 
ful love  to  God,  and  compassionate  love  to  men.  Hence 
the  calmness  and  rationality,  as  well  as  the  ardour  of  his 
mind,  in  reference  to  this  great  subject.  He  did  not  re- 
gard himself  as  making  an  unreasonable  sacrifice,  though 
to  certain  consequences  he  was  acutely  sensible ;  or  as 
called  to  a  work  of  a  peculiar  and  unprecedented  nature ; 
but  merely  as  discharging  a  common  obligation,  and  en- 
gaging in  a  service  which  ought,  in  one  way  or  other,  to 


274  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

be  attended  to  by  every  disciple  of  Jesus.  He  felt  tbat 
much  had  been  forgiven  him,  he  therefore  loved  much. 
As  he  grew  in  spirituality  of  mind,  he  grew  not  only  in 
deadness  to  the  world,  but  in  indifference  to  those  literary 
and  scientific  pursuits  in  which  he  was  so  well  qualified  to 
excel,  and  in  his  admiration  of  the  superior  excellence  of 
the  knowledge  of  Christ  Jesus  his  Lord.  He  despised  them, 
not  because  he  was  ignorant  of  them,  or  because  they 
were  beyond  his  reach ;  but  after  he  had  subdued  the  diffi- 
culties of  the  ascent,  and  had  their  loftiest  summits  full  in 
view  !  Even  then,  he  did  not  disregard  them  as  worthless, 
but  as  less  worthy  than  another  and  a  higher  object. 
While  the  laurels,  which  he  had  so  honourably  won,  were 
yet  fresh  and  unwithered  on  his  brow,  he  laid  them  at  the 
foot  of  the  cross,  and  with  high  Christian  magnanimity 
declared,  "  that  what  things  were  gain  to  him,  those  he 
counted  loss  for  Christ." 

When  I  speak  of  his  indifference  to  the  pursuits  of 
philosophy,  I  mean  not  to  say  that  he  neglected  the  culti- 
vation of  his  mind,  or  that  he  turned  aside  from  any  of  the 
paths  of  learning  and  science  which  he  was  capable  of  ex- 
ploring. I  only  mean  to  say  that  he  pursued  them  no 
longer  for  their  own  sake,  for  the  gratification  which  they 
afforded,  or  for  the  earthly  rewards  which  they  might  have 
secured.  They  became  subordinate,  in  his  mind,  to  an 
ulterior  object.  In  as  far  as  they  might  fit  him  for  more 
eminent  usefulness,  he  considered  them  important,  and 
studied  them  with  diligence  and  unconquerable  determi- 
nation. 

To  the  ardour  of  his  spirit  in  the  acquisition  of  the 
qualifications  which  he  felt  to  be  necessary  for  the  ser- 
vice of  Christ,  and  the  intense  workinp;  of  his  mind  in 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART.  275 

regard  to  that  service  it&elf,  I  have  no  doubt  he  fell  a 
sacrifice.  Many  an  individual  has  been  a  martyr  for 
Christ,  who  has  not  expired  on  a  gibbet,  or  suffered  at  the 
stake.  Zeal  for  the  glory  and  the  house  of  God  is  a  con- 
suming principle.  It  burnt  up  the  Saviour  himself,  and 
it  has  brought  to  a  speedy  termination  the  career  of  many 
a  disciple.  Such,  I  feel  assured,  was  the  case  of  John 
Urquhart.  His  feelings  became  morbid ;  but  this  was  the 
result  of  weakness  of  body,  rather  than  of  any  improper 
or  undue  exercise  of  the  mind.  The  sensibilities  of  his 
nature  were  indeed  refined  and  excited  by  his  Christian 
principles,  till  they  became  too  powerful  for  the  bodily 
structure  on  which  they  operated.  But  this  reflects  no 
discredit  on  Christianity.  It  only  illustrates  the  weakness 
of  man,  and  the  disproportion  of  his  powders  to  the  magni- 
tude and  the  lofty  enterprise  of  the  gospel.  Granting 
that  it  killed  the  individual,  it  only  follows,  that  the  event 
is  mysterious,  not  that  a  loss  has  been  sustained.  That 
the  reward  of  the  sufferer  is  secured,  we  have  the  best 
reason  for  believing ;  and  that  gain,  rather  than  damage, 
may  arise  to  the  cause  of  the  Saviour,  eternity  will  enable 
us  to  discover. 

Did  the  present  state  terminate  the  being  and  the  bliss 
of  man,  we  might  well  be  discouraged  by  the  occurrence 
of  such  early  deaths,  from  cultivating  our  intellectual 
faculties.  The  uncertainty  of  enjoying  them  for  any 
length  of  time  is  so  great,  that  the  labour  of  the  cultiva- 
tion might  seem  disproportioncd  to  the  result.  But  if  all 
intellectual  and  moral  worth  shall  find  place  and  scope  in 
the  eternal  world,  the  case  is  very  different.  No  mental 
attainment  can  be  lost.  The  language  and  the  literature, 
and  the  science  of  heaven  may  be  different  from  all  that 


276  MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUHART. 

we  have  known  on  earth  ;  but  the  capacity  which  grasped 
the  word  and  the  works  of  God  in  this  world,  and  which 
was  improved  by  the  influence  which  is  from  above,  will 
operate  in  proportion  to  its  strength  and  its  spirituality 
on  the  things  of  eternity. 

If  the  reader  is  young,  and  enterprising  ;  if  he  possesses 
talents,  and  if  those  talents  are  cultivated ;  let  me  submit 
to  such  an  individual  the  consideration  of  the  example, 
and  the  lessons  recorded  in  these  memoirs.  I  mean  the 
example  and  the  lesson  of  high  devotedness.  For  what 
purpose  has  God  endowed  you  with  his  gifts,  and  blessed 
you  with  his  grace  ?  What  is  your  proposed  field  of  glory 
or  enterprise  ?  Have  you  devoted  your  life  and  your 
talents  to  Christ,  or  to  the  business  and  the  ambition  of 
this  world?  Are  you  a  Christian?  Then  is  there  one 
object  placed  before  you,  and  one  course  marked  out  for 
you  to  follow.  "None  of  us  liveth  to  himself."  Every 
Christian  is  Christ's  property  and  Christ's  servant.  The 
service  of  Christ,  the  glory  of  Christ,  and  the  salvation 
of  the  world,  are  as  much  the  interest  of  the  weakest  be- 
liever as  they  were  that  of  the  apostle  Paul.  Every  Chris- 
tian owes  his  all  to  the  Redeemer ;  and  Paul  could  owe  no 
more.  We  may  not  be  honoured  to  preach  the  gospel,  or 
to  die  for  the  gospel ;  but  to  live  and  die  to  Christ  is  the 
honour  and  privilege  of  all  his  saints.  The  life  which  is 
consecrated  to  his  service,  and  the  talents  which  are  de- 
voted to  his  glory,  will  be  found  the  happiest,  and,  in 
the  end,  the  most  productive.  It  may  be  short,  it  may  be 
long,  as  the  will  of  God  shall  determine ;  that  is  not  our 
concern,  and  ought  not  to  cause  our  anxiety.  But  it 
ought  to  be  our  anxious  and  unceasing  desire,  that, 
"whether  we  live,  we  may  live  unto  the  Lord;  or  whether 


MEMOIR    OF    JOHN    URQUIIART.  277 

we  die,  we  may  die  unto  the  Lord :  that,  whether  we  live 
or  die,  we  may  be  the  Lord's."  We  are  constantly  re- 
minded, by  the  events  which  occur,  of  the  truth  of  the 
Scriptures  :  "All  flesh  is  as  grass,  and  all  the  glory  of  man 
as  the  flower  of  grass.  The  grass  withcreth,  and  the 
flower  thereof  falleth  away."  While  these  things  humble 
us,  and  remind  us  of  our  sinfulness  and  our  mortality,  we 
still  have  hope.  "  We  are  cast  down,  but  not  destroyed ; 
we  are  sorrowful,  yet  always  rejoicing:"  for,  "while  the 
world  passeth  away,  and  the  lust  thereof;"  we  know  that 
"he  that  doeth  the  will  of  God  abideth  for  ever." 


24 


APPENDIX 


A. 


AN  ESSAY  ON  THE  NATURE  AND  DESIGN  OF   THE   MISSION  OF 
THE  SAVIOUR  ON  EARTH. 

When  we  look  around  us  on  the  broad  field  of  nature,  and  con- 
template the  numberless  beauties  of  the  universe,  we  are  struck 
with  the  great  power  and  glory  of  God,  as  the  Creator  and  Preserver 
of  all  things. 

When  we  turn  over  the  page  of  history,  and  reflect  on  the  ages 
that  are  past,  and  more  especially  when  we  trace  the  various  wan- 
derings of  the  favoured  descendants  of  Abraham,  we  are  still  more 
impressed  with  his  goodness  and  wisdom  as  the  God  of  providence. 

When  we  turn  to  the  inspired  volume,  and  behold  the  just  and 
perfect  nature  of  the  law,  which  he  has  there  announced  to  us,  we 
are  led  to  adore  his  perfect  justice  and  holiness  as  the  great  Law- 
giver. 

From  these  sources  we  may  deduce  many  of  the  attributes  of  God, 
and  form  some  conception  of  his  moral  character ;  but  there  is  a 
darkness  which  envelopes  it,  which  not  one  ray  of  mercy  irradiates; 
there  is  a  cold  gloom  which  hangs  around  it,  and  which  is  not 
enlivened  by  one  spark  of  love. 

It  is  only  through  the  atonement  that  we  can  behold  him  as  the 
God  of  mercy  ;  it  is  here  that  he  is  emphatically  styled  the  God  of 
love.  It  is  only  as  he  appears  in  the  person  of  the  Saviour  that  we 
dare  approach  unto  him  ;  it  is  only  here  that  he  condescends  to  be 
called  "Immanuel,  God  with  us." 

(279) 


280  APPENDIX. 

Here  the  darkness  and  uncertainty  through  which  we  viewed  him, 
are  dispelled,  and  life  and  immortality  are  brought  to  light  by  the 
gospel.  Here  mercy  and  truth  meet  together,  righteousness  and 
peace  embrace  each  other. 

The  nature  and  design  of  the  wondrous  scheme  of  redemption 
are  beautifully  and  simply  described  to  us  by  Jesus  Christ  himself, 
who  tells  us,  that  "  God  so  loved  the  world,  that  he  gave  his  only 
begotten  Son,  that  whosoever  believeth  in  him  should  not  perish,  but 
have  everlasting  life/' 

Here  man  is  represented  as  perishing ;  for  God  gave  his  Son,  that 
whosoever  believeth  in  him  should  not  perish;  by  which  is  evidently 
implied,  that  man,  previously  to  his  believing  in  the  Son  of  God,  is 
in  a  perishing  condition. 

We  would  first  then  consider  the  perishing  state  of  mankind  which 
called  for  the  intercession  of  the  love  of  God ;  and  which  is  the  state 
of  every  sinner  before  he  believes  in  the  Saviour. 

Here  we  would  remark,  that  God  did  not  create  man  in  this  per- 
ishing condition ;  he  brought  it  upon  himself.  In  the  beginning, 
God  created  man  in  his  own  image,  that  is,  with  a  moral  character 
in  conformity  with  his  own,  with  a  heart  pure  and  holy,  and  abhor- 
ring iniquity.  In  this  state  of  holiness,  and  at  that  time  when  man 
was  morally  able  to  keep  the  commandments  of  an  infinitely  pure 
and  just  God,  his  Creator,  as  a  pledge  of  his  attachment  to  himself, 
desired  him  not  to  eat  the  fruit  of  a  certain  tree  in  the  garden  in 
which  he  had  placed  him ;  and  at  the  same  time  warned  him,  in  the 
most  solemn  manner,  of  the  consequences  of  his  disobedience.  "  In 
the  day  that  thou  eatest  thereof,  thou  shalt  surely  die." 

In  defiance  of  this  awful  warning,  the  first  of  mankind  put  forth 
his  hand  and  broke  the  commandment  of  that  God  who  had  bestowed 
upon  him  every  blessing.  In  consequence  of  this  transgression,  a 
state  of  things  took  place,  in  which  every  descendant  of  Adam  has 
been  utterly  unable  to  keep  that  law  which  God  was  pleased  to  reveal 
to  them.  This  law  is  of  necessity  in  accordance  with  God's  own 
character,  — perfect,  —  promising  life  to  every  one  that  abideth  in  all 
things  that  are  written  in  it,  to  do  them  ;  and  at  the  same  time  de- 
claring, "The  soul  that  sinneth  it  shall  die."  Such  a  law  is  the 
only  one  which  could  be  given  by  a  perfect  God.  Man  had  under- 
gone a  change :  he  was  now  become  unable  to  keep  any  of  the  com- 


MISSION    OF    THE    SAVIOUR.  281 

mandments  of  the  Lord ;  but  because  man  had  fallen,  the  law  of 
God  was  not  to  be  suited  to  his  depraved  capacities.  Such  an  adap- 
tation would  have  argued  change  in  the  Lawgiver,  —  in  Ilim  who 
knows  no  variableness  nor  shadow  of  turning.  This  law  every 
individual  of  the  human  race  has  broken  times  and  ways  without 
number^  We  all,  like  lost  sheep,  have  gone  astray.  All  have  sinned 
and  come  short  of  the  glory  of  God. 

This,  then,  was  the  state  of  our  fallen  race;  we  had  all  broken 
God's  law,  and  were  exposed  to  its  just  condemnation.  A  holy  God 
could  not  wink  at  sin,  nor  a  just  God  forgive  iniquity: — it  behoved 
that  satisfaction  should  be  made,  or  that  the  whole  human  race 
should  be  given  up  to  endless  destruction. 

Such  satisfaction  man  could  not  make ;  he  could  not  even  perform 
his  duty,  much  less  atone  for  the  sins  he  had  committed. 

None  of  the  blessed  spirits  before  the  throne  could  give  for  us  the 
satisfaction  required ;  they  were  all  bound,  as  well  as  we,  to  render 
perfect  obedience  for  themselves  at  every  moment  of  their  existence, 
and  could,  therefore,  perform  no  supererogatory  duty  to  atone  for 
the  sins  of  others.  Since  then  man  had  sinned,  since  he  could  render 
no  satisfaction  for  himself,  and  since  no  created  being,  however 
exalted,  could  render  it  for  him,  there  was  but  one  alternative :  it 
was  necessary  that  the  required  satisfaction  should  be  made  by  the 
Judge  himself,  or  that  man  should  be  consigned  to  endless  punish- 
ment. % 

This  is  the  condition  alluded  to  in  the  passage  we  have  quoted. 
It  was  when  man  was  in  this  state,  when  he  had  made  God  his 
enemy  by  his  multiplied  transgressions,  that  that  very  God  against 
whom  he  had  offended,  "  so  loved  the  world,  that  he  gave  his  only 
begotten  Son,  that  whosoever  believeth  in  him  should  not  perish, 
but  have  everlasting  life."  Yes  I  at  that  very  time  when  all  that 
was  dear  to  man  seemed  lost  for  ever, — when  there  seemed  to  be  no 
way  of  escape,  —  when  there  was  no  eye  to  pity  nor  hand  to  help, 
—  even  then  God  said,  "I  have  found  a  ransom."  His  eye  pitied, 
and  his  right  arm  wrought  salvation.  No  sooner  had  man  fallen 
from  his  innocence,  than  God  declared  to  him  that  "  the  seed  of  the 
woman  should  bruise  the  head  of  the  serpent."  This  was  the  lirst 
of  that  lengthened  series  of  prophecies  regarding  a  future  deliverer, 
which  terminated  in  the  coming  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.     It  was 

24* 


282^  APPENDIX. 

through  faith  in  his  name,  as  foretold  in  those  prophecies,  that  the 
people  of  God  were  saved,  who  lived  before  his  coming  ;  it  is  through 
faith  in  his  name,  as  manifested  in  the  gospel,  that  more  sure  word 
of  prophecy  with  which  we  are  favoured,  that  believers  are  saved 
now ;  and  through  faith  in  his  name  also  shall  the  elect  be  saved 
unto  the  latest  generations.  "  For  there  is  none  other  name  under 
heaven,  given  among  men,  whereby  we  must  be  saved." 

The  design  of  the  mission  of  Jesus  Christ,  we  conceive,  consists 
chiefly  in  two  things:  —  the  one  is  usually  denominated  our  justifi- 
cation, the  other,  our  sanctification.  The  first  of  these  consists  in 
our  freedom  from  wrath,  as  the  punishment  due  to  our  sins ;  being 
that  part  of  the  atonement  which  reconciles  our  forgiveness  with 
God's  justice,  that  through  which  he  can  be  just  and  the  justifier  of 
the  sinner  who  believeth  in  Jesus. 

The  second,  or  our  sanctification,  is  that  which  fits  us  for  enjoy- 
ing eternal  life  in  the  presence  of  God  ;  being  that  part  of  the  scheme 
of  redemption  which  reconciles  our  reception  into  favour,  with  God's 
holiness  ;  that  through  which  he  can  be  of  purer  eyes  than  to  behold 
iniquity,  and  yet  hold  communion  with  the  most  polluted  sinner  who 
believeth  in  Jesus. 

We  have  already  shown  that  no  less  a  being  than  God  could  atone 
for  sin ;  but  we  must  now  remark  that  as  man  had  sinned,  so  the 
law  required  that  man  should  sufi'er.  It  was  for  this  reason  chiefly, 
we  conceive,  that  our  Saviour  took  not  on  him  the  nature  of  angels, 
but  took  upon  him  the  seed  of  Abraham,  being  thus  fitted  in  the 
estimation  of  the  law  to  atone  for  the  sins  of  man.  Having  there- 
fore in  due  time  appeared  in  the  flesh,  and  sojourned  a  considerable 
time  on  earth  for  an  example  to  his  followers  ;  the  time  drew  nigh 
when  the  sentence  of  the  law  should  be  fulfilled  in  him  who  knew 
no  sin  ;  when  he,  who  was  God  over  all,  blessed  for  ever,  and  who 
thought  it  no  robbery  to  be  equal  with  the  Father,  should  be  made 
a  curse  for  us. 

The  sentence  of  the  law  was  death  ;  it  behoved  therefore,  that  the 
substitute  should  bear  that  sentence,  —  and  he  did  bear  it  in  its  full- 
est extent.  He  bore  our  sins  in  his  own  body  on  the  tree,  and  thus 
magnified  the  law,  and  made  it  honourable.  While  hanging  on  the 
accursed  cross,  the  Son  of  God  exclaimed,  "  It  is  finished ;  and  he 
bowed  his  head,  and  gave  up  the  ghost."  Then  was  justice  satisfied, — 


MISSION    OF    THE    SAVIOUR.  283 

it  had  wreaked  its  vengeance  on  the  person  of  our  Surety  ;  and  thus 
as  many  as  believe  in  him,  are  saved  from  the  wrath  to  come. 

While  he  thus  obtained  our  justification  on  Calvary,  our  great 
Redeemer  also  made  provision  for  our  sanctification.  While  he  was 
yet  with  his  disciples  on  the  earth,  he  promised  to  send  to  them 
"another  Comforter,  even  the  Spirit  of  truth."  To  sanctify  the 
heart  of  the  believer,  and  to  assimilate  his  character  to  that  of  God, 
is  the  peculiar  office  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  Sanctification  is  not,  like 
justification,  attained  at  once;  it  is  a  progressive  process.  When  a 
sinner  believes  in  Jesus,  his  justification  is  completed,  he  is  entirely 
freed  from  the  punishment  due  to  sin ;  but  he  is  then  only  partially 
freed  from  the  influence  of  sin  itself.  The  work  of  the  Spirit  is  only 
begun  in  his  heart.  That  work,  however,  will  still  go  on ;  day  by 
day  he  will  increase  in  love  for  holiness,  and  hatred  of  sin,  though  it 
will  never  be  completed  on  this  side  of  the  grave. 

Such,  we  conceive,  is  the  design  of  the  gospel,  and  such  the  means 
employed  to  accomplish  this  design.  We  shall  now  attempt  to  show 
the  fitness  of  the  means  for  the  end. 

We  have  already  seen  that  the  law  was  not  adapted  to  the  fallen 
state  of  man,  nor  indeed  could  be,  so  long  as  God  was  just;  but 
"  what  the  law  could  not  do,  in  that  it  was  weak  through  the  flesh, 
God,  sending  his  Son  in  the  likeness  of  sinful  flesh,  and  for  sin,  con- 
demned sin  in  the  flesh  ;  that  the  righteousness  of  the  law  might  be  ful- 
filled in  us,  who  walk  not  after  the  flesh,  but  after  the  Spirit." 

To  man  in  his  fallen  and  depraved  state,  the  gospel  is  most  admir- 
ably adapted.  In  calling  upon  a  sinner,  it  does  not  address  itself  to 
his  generous  feelings ;  it  does  not  appeal  to  his  gratitude,  and  say, 
"  Can  you  any  longer  remain  in  disobedience  to  that  God  who  has 
done  so  much  for  you?"  *'  Can  you  any  longer  love  sin,  when  you 
see  its  awful  consequences  in  the  death  of  the  Redeemer?"  The 
force  of  such  language  could  only  be  felt  by  a  renewed  mind  ;  such 
language  were  addressed  to  an  unregenerate  sinner  in  vain. 
^  In  his  mind  there  is  no  generous  feeling ;  it  is  wholly  selfish.  In 
his  mind  there  is  no  impression  of  the  love  of  God  ;  there  can,  there- 
fore, be  no  corresponding  emotion  of  gratitude.  How  then,  does  the 
gospel  address  him  ?  Is  there  yet  any  principle  left  in  his  depraved 
mind,  which  may  be  impressed  by  its  declarations  ?  Yes,  there  is 
such  a  principle,  it  is  this  very  selfishness  by  which  we  have  charac- 
terized him,  it  is  a  love  of  self,  a  desire  of  self-preservation,  a  desire, 


284  APPENDIX. 

■when  he  sees  his  danger,  to  escape  from  the  wrath  to  come.  "What 
shall  I  do  to  be  saved  V  is  the  language  of  every  sinner  in  this  con- 
dition. It  was  for  such  characters  that  the  gospel  was  intended, 
and  it  is  to  such  that  it  holds  forth  its  most  gracious  invitations. 
*'  Believe  on  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  and  thou  shalt  be  saved."  "  Come 
unto  me,  all  ye  that  are  weary  and  heavy-laden,  and  I  will  give  you 
rest." 

If,  through  the  blessing  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  the  sinner  be  led  to 
this  refuge,  he  immediately  experiences  a  heavenly  joy,  a  peace 
which  the  world  knoweth  not.  To  this  joy  succeeds  love.  His  heart 
is  now  in  some  degree  sanctified,  and  hence,  he  is  in  some  degree 
capable  of  receiving  impressions  of  holy  love ;  the  emotion  of  grati- 
tude is  excited  in  his  bosom,  and  he  loves  in  return.  He  feels  that 
the  debt  of  love  which  he  owes  is  far  greater  than  he  can  ever  pay : 
and  his  language  now  is,  "  What  can  I  do  too  much  for  him  that 
died  for  me?'  It  is  no  longer  a  selfish  principle  which  influences 
his  conduct;  he  is  now  resolved  to  live  not  to  himself  but  to  Him 
who  died  for  him,  and  who  rose  again.  It  is  not  now  we  apprehend 
merely  through  the  fear  of  future  punishment,  or  even  through  the 
hope  of  future  reward,  that  he  avoids  sin,  and  follows  after  holiness. 
He  has  now  acquired  a  new  nature,  which  cannot  take  pleasure  in 
iniquity.  He  is  not  indeed,  freed  from  sin,  for  then  he  were  per- 
fectly happy;  but  it  is  now  the  object  of  his  abhorrence,  and  he  is 
looking  anxiously  forward  to  the  time,  when  it  shall  no  more  break 
in  upon  his  enjoyment. 

Thus  we  have  attempted  to  give  a  cursory  sketch  of  the  nature  and 
design  of  the  mission  of  our  Saviour ;  we  have  endeavoured  to  show 
how  he  reconciled  the  forgiveness  of  sinners,  and  their  reception  into 
favour,  with  the  justice  and  purity  of  the  divine  character;  and  also 
the  fitness  of  the  means  employed  for  this  purpose,  and  the  wondrous 
change  produced  by  them,  upon  the  character  of  man.  And  now  let 
the  reader  solemnly  ask  his  own  heart,  "Am  I  a  partaker  of  the 
mercy  here  exhibited  ?"  "  Have  I  been  led  to  commit  my  soul  to 
the  keeping  of  Jesus  V 

On  the  result  of  these  questions  depends  our  eternal  happiness. 
And  in  this  important  inquiry  let  us  not  deceive  ourselves ;  "A  tree 
is  known  by  its  fruits."  If  our  character  does  not  correspond  with 
the  precepts  of  the  gospel,  whatever  we  may  think,  we  have  not  be- 
lieved it.    And  if  wc  thus  find  that  our  belief  has  been  merely  nomi« 


MISSION    OF    THE    SAVIOUR.  285 

nal,  let  us  seek  God  before  it  be  too  late  ;  let  us  come  to  him  in  the 
way  Avhich  he  has  appointed  while  it  is  called  to-day  ;  let  us  recollect 
that  "  now  is  the  accepted  time,  and  now  is  the  day  of  salvation." 
Letus  rememberthat  every  moment  we  putoff,  our  hearts  are  acquiring 
an  additional  degree  of  hardness  ;  and  let  us  take  warning  from  the 
declaration,  that  "  He  that  being  often  reproved,  hardeneth  his  neck, 
shall  suddenly  be  destroyed,  and  that  without  remedy." 

But,  if  we  do  experience  something  of  that  joy  and  love  which  the 
gospel  describes,  and  have  thus  reason  to  think  that  we  have  believed 
in  the  Son  of  God ;  let  us  not  be  content  with  what  we  have  already 
obtained ;  let  us  forget  the  things  that  are  past,  and  press  onward 
to  the  things  which  are  before,  for  the  prize  of  our  high  calling  in 
Christ  Jesus.  Let  us  recollect  that  there  is  no  standing  still ;  that 
if  we  are  not  growing  in  holiness  and  spiritual  strength,  we  must  be 
falling  back.  Let  us  beware  of  thinking  that  the  contest  is  over,  as 
though  we  were  already  perfect ;  let  us  remember  that  sanctification 
is  a  progressive  work ;  that  it  is  not  to  be  attained  in  a  single  day,  or 
a  single  year,  or  in  a  series  of  many  years,  nor  ever  wholly  attained, 
so  long  as  we  remain  in  this  world  of  sin. 

As  a  means  of  attaining  greater  degrees  of  grace,  let  us  look  to  the 
Saviour  and  reflect  on  his  finished  work  ;  the  more  we  think  on  his 
sufferings,  the  more  will  we  hate  sin,  which  was  the  cause  of  them  ! 
The  more  we  reflect  on  his  love  to  us,  the  more  will  we  love  in  return  ; 
for  "  we  love  him,  because  he  first  loved  us."  With  our  love,  our 
holiness  will  increase,  and  we  shall  be  the  more  assimilated  to  his 
glorious  character ;  and  consequently,  we  shall  the  more  largely  par- 
take of  that  happiness  which  is  enjoyed  by  him  in  full  perfection. 
The  subject  of  the  love  of  God  as  exhibited  in  the  atonement,  is  infi- 
nite, and  will  be  the  theme  of  our  praises  through  eternity.  But 
though  never  able  fully  to  comprehend,  yet  may  we  ever  be  learning 
more  of  the  height,  and  depth,  and  breadth,  and  length  of  that  love 
which  passeth  knowledge. 


286 


APPENDIX. 


B. 

DR.  CHALMERS.  — THE  ST.  ANDREW'S  MISSIONARY  SOCIETY. 

Peiihaps  an  apology  may  be  necessary  for  again  calling  the  atten- 
tion of  our  readers  to  a  subject  which  may  be  supposed  by  some  of 
them  to  have  already  occupied  too  prominent  a  place  in  the  pages  of 
the  University  Magazine.  It  is  not,  however,  to  the  general  subject 
of  missions  that  the  following  observations  refer ;  but  to  an  institu- 
tion, which,  for  several  reasons,  is  highly  deserving  of  our  attention. 
The  meetings  of  the  St.  Andrew's  Missionary  Society  are  conducted 
by  one  of  the  most  distinguished  men  of  the  present  age ;  and  one 
who  is  both  an  eleve  and  a  Professor  of  our  own  University.  After 
alluding  to  Dr.  Chalmers,  it  is  scarcely  necessary  to  add,  that  the 
perfect  originality  of  the  plan  of  procedure  in  the  public  meetings  of 
this  society,  furnishes  the  subject  with  an  additional  claim  upon  our 
regard.  We  feel  quite  ashamed,  indeed,  that  we  have  not  ere  now 
given  a  more  detailed  account  of  these  highly  interesting  meetings. 
Our  only  excuse  is,  that  we  have  felt  unequal  to  the  task.  When 
any  subject  is  treated  in  an  ordinary  manner,  a  brief  summary  of 
leading  ideas  may  be  sufficient  to  suggest  a  pretty  accurate  concep- 
tion of  the  whole ;  as  a  well  executed  sketch  may  give  a  just  enough 
idea  of  a  common  painting.  But  should  we  attempt  to  give  any  ade- 
quate conception  of  the  rich  and  expressive  diction,  and  the  living 
imagery  of  Dr.  Chalmers's  style,  by  a  meagre  outline  of  his  ideas,  it 
were  something  as  if  a  mere  dabbler  in  the  fine  arts  should  hold  up 
his  own  rude  and  imperfect  sketch  of  some  masterpieceof  the  pencil, 
and  pretend  thereby  to  afford  a  just  representation  of  that  original, 
in  which  every  lineament  gave  grace  and  beauty,  and  every  touch 
gave  life.  This,  therefore,  we  shall  not  attempt.  Our  object  in  these 
remarks  is  to  give  some  account  of  Dr.  Chalmers's  plan  of  procedure, 
which  we  think  might  be  extensively  adopted  in  meetings  of  a  similar 
nature,  with  very  considerable  advantage. 

Dr.  Chalmers  is,  in  the  widest  sense  of  the  word,  a  Philosopher; 
and  philosophy  is  his  companion  wherever  he  goes.  He  has  here 
succeeded  in  introducing  her  into  a  place,  where,  it  must  be  con- 
fessed, she  has  but  seldom  appeared  hitherto,  and  where  her  friends 
expected,  least  of  all,  perhaps,  to  find  her,  the  meeting  of  a  Missionary 


ST.   ANDREW'S    MISSIONARY   SOCIETY.     287 

Society.  If  we  have  been  at  all  able  to  guess  at  the  scope  of  Dr. 
Chalmers's  general  plan,  from  the  few  of  these  meetings  we  have  had 
the  pleasure  of  attending,  he  appears  to  us  to  have  taken  a  most 
interesting  view  of  missionary  operations.  lie  seems  to  regard  the 
history  of  Christian  enterprise  among  the  heathen,  as  a  wide  field 
of  observation,  from  whence  we  may  gather,  by  induction,  some  very 
important  truths  in  reference  to  the  Christian  religion.  Accordingly, 
while  interesting  selections  are  read  from  the  periodical  accounts  of 
different  missionary  societies,  the  inferences  that  may  be  legitimately 
drawn  from  the  facts  there  recorded,  are  set  forth  by  Dr.  Chalmers 
in  paragraphs  of  his  own  composition,  occasionally  interspersed  with 
extemporaneous  explanation.  These  serve  to  connect  together  the 
extracts  that  are  read,  and  thus  give  to  the  whole  the  air  of  a  con- 
tinuous and  well  arranged  discourse,  where  some  important  doctrines 
are  advanced,  which  are  proved  as  well  as  deeply  impressed  on  the 
mind  by  an  appeal  to  very  striking  historical  illustration.  Appa- 
rently from  a  desire  to  give  a  more  distinct  view  of  the  different 
spheres  of  missionary  labour.  Dr.  Chalmers  seems  to  wish  to  confine 
his  attention  to  the  operations  of  one  body  of  Christians  at  a  time. 
At  those  meetings  which  we  have  had  the  opportunity  of  attending, 
during  this  and  the  preceding  session,  the  facts  which  have  formed 
th«  ground-work  of  Dr.  Chalmers's  observations  have  been  gleaned 
chiefly  from  the  accounts  of  the  Moravian  missions.  We  have  been 
informed  that,  during  the  summer  months,  the  Church  Missionary 
Society,  and  the  Baptist  Missionary  Society,  have  also  shared  his 
attention. 

The  facts  connected  with  the  Missions  of  the  United  Brethren, 
that  Dr.  Chalmers  has  brought  forward,  have  given  rise  to  some 
investigations  concerning  the  great  principles  of  our  faith,  which 
must  prove  interesting,  not  only  to  the  supporters  of  missionary 
societies,  but  to  every  one  who  feels  any  concern  in  the  cause  of 
genuine  Christianity.  Some  of  these  inquiries  are  so  interesting, 
and  lead  to  results  of  such  paramount  importance,  that  we  shall 
refer  a  little  more  particularly  to  those  facts  which  tend  to  their  elu- 
cidation. 

The  United  Brethren  have  been  at  once  the  most  successful,  and 
the  most  popular  of  all  missionaries.  And  it  may  be  interesting  to 
examine  a  little  more  closely  into  these  two  characteristics  of  the 
Moravian  missions.     And,  first,  as   to   their  success.  —  What  has 


288  APPENDIX. 

been  the  cause  of  it  ?  What  are  their  vfews  of  divine  truth  ?  What 
has  been  the  mode  of  their  instruction  ?  And  in  their  discourses, 
what  are  the  truths  which  they  bring  most  prominently  forward? 
It  is  well  known  that,  on  this  very  subject,  there  is  a  division  of 
opinion  among  the  teachers  of  Christianity  in  our  own  land.  One 
would  think  that  a  careful  examination  of  facts  might  lead  to  a 
satisfactory  determination  of  this  question. 

Some  theologians  are  of  opinion  that  a  few  of  the  leading  truths 
of  the  gospel,  such  as  the  atonement  of  Christ,  and  the  other  doc- 
trines that  are  inseparably  connected  with  it,  should  bold  a  most 
prominent  place  in  their  public  instructions.  Others,  while  they 
may  admit  that  these  truths  are  contained  in  the  Scriptures,  and  as 
such  are  to  be  received  by  us  as  matters  of  faith,  are  yet  of  opinion 
that  they  are  a  little  too  mysterious  for  the  common  people,  and 
assure  us  that  they  think  themselves  far  more  likely  to  promote  the 
cause  of  religion  and  virtue,  if,  instead  of  chiming  on  a  few  theoret- 
ical dogmas,  they  attempt  to  enforce  on  the  attention  of  their  hear- 
ers, those  divine  precepts,  which  embody  the  principles  of  a  moral- 
ity, the  purest  and  most  perfect  that  the  world  has  ever  known. 

Now,  on  perusing  the  accounts  of  the  Moravian  Missions,  we  find 
that,  on  this  very  subject,  a  most  interesting  experiment  has  actually 
been  made.  These  two  systems  of  religious  instruction  have  been 
successively  brought  to  bear  upon  the  same  people,  while  their  cir- 
cumstances remained  the  same;  and  therefore  the  experiment  may 
be  deemed  a  fair  and  decisive  one.  What  renders  the  case  still 
more  interesting,  is  its  great  simplicity.  There  are  no  disturbing 
forces,  so  to  speak,  to  confuse  or  embarrass  our  calculations  in  this 
highly  important  question  of  moral  dynamics.  The  subjects  of  the 
experiment  were  savages  in  the  very  lowest  state  of  degradation, 
and  therefore  we  have  no  allowance  to  make  for  any  state  of  prepa- 
ration that  might  result  from  previous  knowledge.  If  it  appear 
from  the  facts  to  which  we  shall  refer,  that  the  declaration  of  those 
doctrines  generally  deemed  too  abstract  to  produce  any  practical 
effect  on  the  popular  mind;  the  doctrines,  viz.;  of  the  total  deprav- 
ity of  all  mankind,  —  of  the  vicarious  suffering  of  the  Son  of  God, 
—  of  justification  through  belief  in  his  atonement,  and  sanctification 
through  the  emission  of  the  Holy  Spirit ;  if  it  appear  that  the 
simple  declaration  of  these  truths  has  wrought  efficiently  to  the 
moral  and  ecouomic  renovation  of  the  most  ignorant,  and  the  most 


ST.  Andrew's   missionary  society.    289 

barbarous  of  the  human  species  ;  then  it  follows  a  fortiori  that  these 
are  the  doctrines  wliich  when  preached  in  our  own  country,  are 
most  likely  to  prove  effectual  in  producing  uprightness,  sobriety, 
and  godliness  throughout  our  own  enlightened  community. 

To  come  then  to  the  facts.  The  scene  of  the  experiment  was  the 
inhospitable  region  of  Greenland  ;  and  the  moral  and  intellectual 
condition  of  the  inhabitants  was  even  more  barren  and  dreary  than 
the  scenery  with  which  they  were  surrounded.  Here  the  only  plau- 
sible system  of  instruction  seemed  to  be  to  attempt  to  teach  the 
savages  those  truths  which  are  of  a  preliminary  nature.  Accord- 
ingly, the  missionaries  set  to  work  most  assiduously,  in  telling  the 
Greenlanders  of  the  being  and  character  of  a  God,  and  of  the  require- 
ments of  his  law.  However  plausible  this  mode  of  instruction  may 
appear,  it  was  patiently  continued  in  for  seven  years,  without  pro- 
ducing even  the  smallest  effect  on  those  hearts  which  ignorance  and 
stupidity  had  rendered  almost  inaccessible.  The  first  conversion, 
(as  far  as  man  was  concerned),  may  be  said  to  have  been  accidental. 
Some  Southlanders  happened  to  visit  the  brethren,  as  one  of  them 
was  writing  a  translation  of  the  gospels.  They  were  curious  to 
know  what  was  in  the  book,  and  on  hearing  read  the  history  of 
Christ's  agony  in  the  garden,  one  of  the  savages  earnestly  exclaimed, 
*'  How  was  that?  Tell  me  it  once  more  ;  for  I  also  would  fain  be 
saved."  But  it  would  be  foreign  to  our  purpose  to  enter  into  a 
minute  detail  of  facts.  We  refer  those  who  may  wish  to  inquire 
more  particularly  into  this  most  interesting  passage  of  ecclesiasticil 
history,  to  the  original  accounts,*  which  may  be  found  in  the  library 
of  the  University  Missionary  Society.  Suffice  it  to  say,  that  some 
time  after  this  remarkable  conversion,  the  brethren  entirely  changed 
their  method  of  instruction.  "  They  now  directed  the  attention  of 
the  savages,  in  the  first  instance,  to  Christ  Jesus,  to  his  incarnation, 
to  his  life,  and  especially  to  his  sufferings."!  This  was  the  begin- 
ning of  a  new  era  in  the  history  of  the  evangelization  of  Greenland. 
Conversion  followed  conversion,  till  the  missionaries  could  number 
hundrxds  to  whom  the  message  of  God  had  come,  not  in  word 
only,  but  also  in  power.     There  is  still  one  objection  that  may  be 

*  See  Brown's  History  of  Missions,  vol.  i.  p.  294-298.     Crantz's  History  of 
Greenland. 

t  See  Brown's  History  of  Missions. 

25 


290  APPENDIX. 

made  to  the  inference  drawn  from  these  facts,  and  one  which  at  first 
sight  appears  very  plausible.  It  may  be  asked,  How  do  we  know- 
how  far  the  first  mode  of  instruction  employed  by  the  missionaries, 
although  it  produced  no  immediate  benefit,  may  not  have  prepared 
the  minds  of  savages,  for  receiving  with  intelligence  the  truths  that 
were  afterward  declared  to  them  ?  To  this  we  answer  that  previous 
to  the  preaching  of  the  gospel,  the  savages  do  not  seem  to  have  been 
so  much  interested  in  their  teachers,  as  to  give  them  a  fair  hearing ; 
and  they  surely  could  not  be  influenced  by  instructions  to  which  they 
had  never  listened.  But  even  were  this  a  doubtful  matter,  the  first 
conversion  in  Greenland  is  a  splendid  proof  of  the  way  in  which  the 
simple  truths  of  the  gospel  seek  their  way  to  the  human  heart, 
unpioneered  by  any  preliminary  instruction  whatever. 

But,  quite  satisfactory  as  this  experiment  is,  still,  did  it  stand 
alone,  we  might  justly  be  charged  with  a  rash  induction,  in  drawing 
a  general  conclusion  from  premises  so  limited.  But  it  does  not 
stand  alone.  The  Moravians  have  attempted  the  conversion  and 
civilization  of  men  of  almost  every  country  and  of  every  condition ; 
and  their  uncommon  success  is  borne  testimony  to,  by  all  who  have 
visited  the  scenes  of  their  philanthropic  exertions.  Amid  the  snows 
of  Greenland  they  have  planted  their  little  villages  of  comfort  and 
happiness ;  and  the  eye  of  the  traveller  has  been  refreshed,  as  it 
lighted  on  some  spot  of  luxuriant  verdure,  which  their  hand  has 
decked  out  in  the  midst  of  an  African  desert.*  And,  wherever 
success  had  attended  their  endeavours,  whenever  they  tell  of  a  single 
addition  to  the  number  of  their  converts,  it  is  to  the  preaching  of 
Christ,  and  of  him  crucified,  that  they  attribute  it  all.  Indeed,  if 
we  inquire  into  the  reason  why  the  Moravians  have  been  more  suc- 
cessful than  other  missionaries,  we  find  that  the  distinguishing  pecu- 
liarity of  their  preaching  consists  in  this,  that  they  dwell  more 
simply  and  more  constantly,  on  the  love  of  Christ.  In  all  parts  of 
the  world  their  mode  of  teaching  has  been  nearly  the  same,  and  the 
change  which  their  instructions  have  produced,  upon  men,  the  most 
diverse  in  their  character  and  circumstances,  is  a  beautiful  illustra- 
tion of  the  divine  efficacy  which  accompanies  the  simple  preaching 
of  the  gospel.  Under  the  instruction  of  these  simple,  and  often 
uneducated  men,  the  roving  and  unrestrained  savage  has  been  led 

*  See  Barrow's  Travels. 


ST.    ANDREW'S    MISSIONARY   SOCIETY.     291 

to  abandon  his  irregular  habits,  and  to  cultivate  the  decencies  of 
civilized  life.  Under  their  instruction,  the  North  American  Indian 
has  been  divested  of  his  barbarous  cruelty,  and  has  even  been  known 
to  suffer  the  most  palpable  injustice,  and  the  most  inhuman  treat- 
ment from  his  countrymen,  without  an  attempt,  or  even  a  wish  to 
revenge.  And,  finally,  under  their  instruction,  the  degraded,  and 
almost  heart-broken  slave  has  been  led  to  bow  to  the  scourge  of  his 
insulting  oppressor,  with  a  meekness  and  submission,  which  the 
religion  of  Jesus  alone  could  inspire. 

These  are  facts  ;  and  facts  are  far  more  eloquent  than  words.  We 
leave  them  to  make  their  own  impression. 

We  are  aware  that  we  may  seem  to  have  dwelt  too  long  on  this 
one  illustration ;  but  the  paramount  importance  of  the  subject  is  a 
sufficient  excuse.  Almost  every  extract  that  Dr.  Chalmers  has  read, 
has  tended  to  demonstrate  the  vast  superiority  of  that  mode  of 
Christian  instruction  which  is  generally  termed  evangelical. 

After  dwelling  so  long  on  a  single  illustration  of  Dr.  Chalmers's 
method  of  conducting  the  business  of  these  meetings,  we  could  have 
wished  much  in  the  present  paper,  (and  more  especially  as  this  is 
the  last  opportunity  that  may  now  be  afforded  of  so  doing),  to  have 
gone  on  with  a  more  general  account  of  the  numerous  interesting  topics 
that  have  been  discussed  during  the  course  of  the  doctor's  prelections. 
There  is  still  one  point,  however,  regarding  the  missions  of  the  United 
Brethren,  which  we  should  be  most  unwilling  slightly  to  pass  over. 
And  w^e  are  the  less  sorry,  that  we  have  been  led,  in  these  detached 
sketches,  to  confine  our  attention  exclusively  to  one  or  two  points  in 
the  history  of  missions,  inasmuch  as  we  have  all  along  expressed  it 
to  be  our  design,  to  draw  the  attention  of  our  readers,  not  so  much 
to  the  subject  of  missions,  as  to  those  important  truths  which  the 
experiments  of  Christian  philanthropy  may  have  tended  more  strik- 
ingly to  illustrate,  and  more  firmly  to  establish. 

We  have  said  of  the  United  Brethren,  that  they  have  been  at  once 
the  most  successful,  and  the  most  popular  of  all  missionaries.  We 
have,  already,  at  some  length,  inquired  into  the  causes  of  their  suc- 
cess ;  it  now  remains,  that  we  briefly  advert  to  the  subject  of  their 
popularity. 

We  have  already  seen  that  the  peculiar  views  of  religious  truths 
which  these  Christians  entertain,  are  not  such  as  generally  meet 


292  APPENDIX. 

with  very  high  admiration  in  the  world ;  and  any  person  who  has 
just  glanced  at  their  writings,  must  know,  that  the  way  in  which 
they  express  their  sentiments,  is  not  very  highly  calculated  to  please 
the  ear  or  gratify  the  taste  of  general  readers.  Certainly,  at  first 
sight,  it  is  not  very  easy  to  conceive  how  the  very  persons  who  dwell 
most  exclusively  on  those  doctrines  of  the  Bible,  that  are  known  to 
be  most  revolting  to  mere  men  of  taste,  should  at  all  have  attracted 
their  attention,  or  gained  their  esteem.  And  yet  it  is  a  notorious 
fact,  that  by  men  in  power,  in  the  colonies  where  they  labour,  the 
Moravian  missionaries  are  very  highly  respected  ;  while,  among  men 
of  taste  at  home,  they  have  become  the  objects  of  an  almost  senti- 
mental admiration.  The  explanation  of  the  matter  which  Dr.  Chal- 
mers has  given,  is  at  once  simple  and  satisfactory.  It  is  just  this: 
The  thing  has  had  time  to  work.  And  those  very  principles  which 
themselves  are  so  generally  nauseated  by  men  of  science  and  litera- 
ture, have  efiioresced  into  a  beauty  and  a  luxuriance  which  command 
the  esteem,  and  excite  the  admiration  of  all. 

When  the  man  of  taste  reads  in  the  accounts  which  these  mission- 
aries give  of  their  success,  such  sentences  as  these,  "  Our  Saviour 
continues  to  bless  our  feeble  testimony,  concerning  the  atonement 
which  he  has  made  for  sinners  ;"  "  The  Lord  graciously  owns  our 
feeble  endeavours,  and  accompanies  with  his  blessing  the  preaching 
of  the  word  of  the  cross,"  *  (and  these  are  fair  specimens  of  the  whole 
strain  of  their  writings  ;)  in  all  probability,  the  sneer  of  mingled 
pity  and  contempt  curls  upon  his  lips,  or  he  turns  proudly  away 
■with  loathing  and  disgust.  But  when  the  same  individual  is  told  of 
smiling  villages,  and  cultivated  fields,  starting  forth  as  if  by  magic, 
in  the  midst  of  a  barren  wilderness,  when  he  hears  that  those  whom 
he  had  been  wont  to  rank,  in  point  of  intellect,  with  the  inferior 
creation,  are  now  disciplined  in  the  elements  of  general  knoM'ledge, 
and  skilled  in  the  endowments  of  the  arts,  when  he  beholds  the  wan- 
dering marauders  of  the  desert  associated  in  little  communities  where 
peace  and  order  reign  in  every  breast,  and  comfort  smiles  upon  every 
family  ;  his  whole  soul  is  enraptured  by  the  realization  of  those  very 
scenes,  the  mere  imagination  of  which  has  given  to  poetry  and  romance, 
their  chief  and  loveliest  attractions. 

*  Periodical  Accounts  of  the  Missions  of  the  United  Brethren. 


ST.  Andrew's  missionary  society.    293 

Indeed,  so  different  are  the  emotions  excited  in  the  mind  of  a  man 
of  taste,  by  the  contemplation  of  the  principles  which  are  at  work, 
and  of  the  effects  that  are  evolved  by  their  operation,  that  he  cannot 
be  brought  to  believe  that  there  is  any  such  close  connection  between 
the  result,  and  that  which  is  alleged  to  be  the  cause  of  it.  He  will 
not  admit  that  a  state  of  things,  so  truly  worthy  the  admiration  of 
every  benevolent  and  right  thinking  mind,  could  ever  have  been  the 
result  of  a  mode  of  operation  so  despicably  weak  and  unphilosophical. 
And  so  biassed  is  his  judgment  by  former  prejudices,  that  no  form 
of  evidence,  however  strong,  can  ever  compel  him  to  the  belief  that 
those  scenes  of  happiness  and  prosperity,  which  have  so  charmed 
his  fancy,  can  at  all  have  anything  to  do  with  the  canting  weakness, 
or  the  severe  austerity  of  a  system,  which,  far  from  thinking  it  capa- 
ble of  introducing  order  and  comfort,  where  confusion  and  misery 
had  reigned  before,  he  had  always  been  wont  to  regard  as  that  which 
damped  the  hilarity,  and  embittered  the  pleasures  of  those  who  were 
weak  enough  to  become  the  dupes  of  its  hypocritical  promulgators, 
even  in  happier  lands.  Accordingly,  in  the  broad  day-light  of  the 
strongest  evidence  for  the  contrary,  it  has  been  most  confidently 
asserted,  that  the  success  of  the  Moravian  missionaries  is  not  at  all 
to  be  referred  to  those  causes  to  which  themselves  have  ascribed  it. 
The  celebrated  traveller,  Barrow,  who  visited  the  stations  of  the 
brethren  in  South  Africa,  gives  the  very  highest  testimony  to  the  suc- 
cess of  their  operations ;  but  the  nature  of  their  operations  them- 
selves, he  most  grossly  misrepresents.  Their  system  he  contrasts 
with  one,  which  he  is  pleased  to  call  that  of  the  "  gospel  mission- 
aries." *'  Instead  of  preaching  to  the  natives,"  he  informs  us,  "  the 
mysterious  parts  of  the  gospel,  the  Moravians  instructed  them  in  use- 
ful industrious  habits ;  instead  of  building  a  church,  they  erected  a 
storehouse.  Their  labours  were  crowned  with  complete  success."  * 
In  a  paper  on  Barrow's  work,  in  the  Edinburgh  Review,  as  well  as 
in  another  article  in  the  same  periodical,  on  Lichtenstein's  Travels, 
the  same  high  commendation  is  awarded  to  the  Moravians,  for  the 
wisdom  manifested  in  their  plans,  and  the  same  gross  misrepresenta- 
tions are  made  in  regard  to  the  nature  of  these  plans.f     In  the  last 

*  Barrow's  Journey  in  Africa,  p.  881. 

■j-  Edinburgh  Review,  vol.  viii.  p.  434-438,  and  vol.  xxi.  pp.  65,  66. 

25* 


294  APPENDIX. 

mentioned  article  we  are  expressly  told  that  the  Moravian  brethren 
"  begin  with  civilizing  their  pupils,  educating  and  instructing  them 
in  the  useful  arts."  We  are  not  sure  whether  this  reviewer  was  the 
original  inventor  of  the  oft-repeated  objection  to  missions  in  general, 
that  "you  must  civilize  a  people  before  you  can  Christianize  them." 
But  if  he  was,  it  is  most  unfortunate  for  his  theory  that  he  happened 
to  stumble  on  the  operations  of  the  Moravian  missionaries,  in  order 
to  support  it ;  for  never  has  the  objection  met  with  more  triumphant 
refutation,  than  in  the  successful  labours  of  these  devoted  philan- 
thropists. The  author  of  the  review  meant  to  compliment  the 
Moravians  ;  but  they  felt  insulted  by  his  eulogium,  and  were  the  first 
to  come  forward  and  deny  his  assertions. 

Here,  then,  is  a  very  high  testimony  to  the  efficacy  of  evangelical 
religion.  A  person  unacquainted  with  the  hidden  mechanism,  is 
delighted  with  the  visible  effects  which  are  produced  by  it.  He  be- 
gins to  speculate  on  the  principles  in  which  such  results  must  have 
originated.  He  forms  a  theory  of  his  own,  agreeable  to  his  own 
previously  acquired  modes  of  thinking,  and  proceeds  forthwith  to 
compliment  those  who  had  acted  on  so  excellent  a  plan,  and  who  had 
demonstrated  its  efficacy  by  the  beautiful  system  which  they  had 
caused  to  emerge  from  it.  The  workers  behind  the  scenes,  now  come 
forward,  and  tell  him  that  he  has  quite  mistaken  the  matter;  for 
they  have  been  acting  on  a  system  altogether  different.  Our  specu- 
lator is  not  only  disappointed  to  find  that  his  own  theory  receives  no 
support  from  the  facts  under  consideration,  and  may  not,  for  aught 
that  he  has  yet  seen,  merit  the  high  eulogiums,  with  which  he  has 
thought  fit  to  honour  it ;  but  he  is  confounded  to  discover,  that  he 
has  been  unwillingly  bearing  testimony  to  the  merits  of  a  plan  at 
Tariance  with  his  own  ;  and  that  the  system  to  which  his  high 
eulogiums  are  now  most  legitimately  transferable,  is  one,  which  he 
has  all  along  been  accustomed  to  declaim  against  as  irrational,  and 
to  despise  as  unphilosophical. ' 


DIVISIONS    OF    PHILOSOPHY.  295 

c. 

ESSAY  ON  THE  DIVISIONS  OF  PHILOSOPHY. 

The  first  which  I  shall  give,  is  the  essay  read  at  the  com- 
mencement of  the  class,  and  which  has  been  repeatedly  referred 
to  already.  At  this  time  it  must  be  remembered  the  writer  had 
not  enjoyed  the  benefit  of  Dr.  Chalmers's  course.  It  had  only  then 
begun.  The  subject  is  difficult,  the  paper  is  short;  but  the  state- 
ment is  most  luminous,  and  the  illustration  uncommonly  beauti- 
ful and  felicitous. 

In  considering  this  subject,  the  question  has  very  forcibly  pre- 
sented itself  to  us,  "Why,  in  the  physical  department  of  philosophy, 
have  the  divisions  and  sub-divisions  been  carried  to  such  a  degree  of 
minuteness,  while  in  the  moral  department,  they  are  comparatively 
few  V  Not,  we  conceive,  because  in  the  latter  the  field  of  observa- 
tion is  more  limited,  or  the  materials  more  scanty  than  in  the  former; 
(for  quite  the  reverse  of  this  we  believe  to  be  true,)  but  chiefly  be- 
cause the  latter  is  involved  in  the  darkness  of  mystery,  which  entirely 
obscures  many  of  those  lines  of  demarcation,  which  evea  in  the 
former,  are  not  very  strongly  delineated. 

Let  us  suppose,  in  illustration  of  this,  that  a  man  wholly  unac- 
quainted with  the  classifications  of  philosophy,  looked  around  on  an 
ordinary  landscape.  There  are  traces  of  such  marked  distinction 
between  some  of  the  objects,  and  such  strong  points  of  resemblance 
between  others,  that  he  could  not  fail  to  make  some  general  arrange- 
ment and  classification  of  the  whole.  He  would  at  once  distinguish 
the  land  from  the  water,  and  the  green  herbage  from  the  naked  rock, 
and  the  houses  from  the  trees,  and  the  animate  from  the  inanimate 
objects  that  surrounded  him.  If  we  further  suppose  that  while  he 
was  thus  gazing  on  the  scene,  the  shades  of  night  began  to  gather 
around  him,  it  is  easy  to  conceive  how  many  of  the  nicer  lines  of 
distinction  which  were  before  so  apparent,  would  now  become  dim 
and  undiscernible  ;  how  the  sky  would  seem  to  mingle  with  the 
ocean ;  and  how  the  herbage,  and  the  trees,  and  the  houses,  and  the 


296  APPENDIX. 

animals,  ■would  be  involved  in  one  dark  shade  of  unvaried  samfjnesiS ; 
and  how,  vt'here  he  could  before  point  out  many  a  division,  and 
many  a  sub-division,  two  or  three  grand  lineaments,  and  these  but 
faintly  perceptible,  would  be  all  he  could  discern  vfithin  the  whole 
range  of  his  survey. 

And  thus  it  is  with  the  two  grand  divisions  of  philosophy;  the 
philosophy  of  matter,  and  the  philosophy  of  mind.  In  the  one  we 
have  to  do  with  an  external  world,  where  all  is  luminous  and  dis- 
tinct; in  the  other  we  have  to  do  with  the  busy  world  within,  where 
all  is  seen  as  through  a  glass,  darkly.  Need  we  wonder,  then,  that 
the  one  has  been  far  more  minutely  divided  and  sub-divided  than 
the  other? 

Accordingly  we  find  that  while  mental  science  has  been  divided 
into  three  parts,  viz..  Logic,  Rhetoric,  and  Moral  Philosophy,  the 
divisions  of  physical  science  amount  to  at  least  ten  times  that 
number. 

But  not  only  are  the  divisions  of  mental  science  few,  but  few  as 
they  are,  they  have  been  confounded  together.  And  this  we  think 
has  arisen,  not  so  much  from  that  obscurity  which  envelopes  the 
whole  subject,  as  from  the  intimate  connection  with  each  other  of  its 
different  departments. 

There  is  here  a  distinction,  which  we  would  notice,  between  the 
physical  and  mental  sciences,  that  while  the  materials  of  the  former 
are  widely  scattered  over  the  whole  face  of  nature,  and  seem  not  to 
be  connected  by  any  common  tie,  those  of  the  latter  have  all  a  refer- 
ence to  a  single  object — the  human  mind.  It  is  thus,  that,  as 
among  the  members  of  the  human  body,  there  exists  among  all  the 
departments  of  this  latter  science,  a  common  sympathy,  if  we  may 
so  speak;  so  that  if  one  suffer,  all  suffer  with  it;  if  one  is  injured, 
all  are  injured.  And  it  is  this  very  close  connection  which  has  been 
the  cause  of  their  being  confounded  together. 

To  illustrate  this,  let  us  suppose  that  war  has  been  declared 
against  one  of  two  confederate  states,  and  that  the  inhabitants  of 
the  other  come  promptly  forward,  to  defend  the  territories  of  their 
ally,  and  that  after  they  have  succeeded  in  beating  off  the  enemy, 
they  still  linger  in  the  country,  and  become  gradually  so  amalga- 
mated with  the  original  inhabitants,  that  in  process  of  time  the  two 
peoples  are  confounded  in  one. 


NATURE    AND    POLITICAL    ECONOMY.       297 

Now  this,  we  think,  is  just  what  has  happened  with  regard  to  the 
moral  and  intellectual  philosophies.  Distinctly  separate,  yet  nearly 
allied  ;  the  attack  which  Mr.  Hume  made  upon  the  one,  struck, 
though  indirectly,  at  the  very  vitals  of  the  other,  and  the  champions 
of  moral  science  wisely  took  the  alarm.  It  was  then  jfirst,  that  with 
a  laudable  zeal,  they  overstepped  the  limits  of  their  own  domain  ; 
and  had  they  returned  when  tranquillity  was  restored,  they  had  done 
well.  It  is  not  for  going  forth  to  meet  a  common  enemy  that  we 
censure  them,  but  because  when  that  enemy  was  defeated,  they  still 
lingered  in  a  foreign  land,  and  forgot  to  retire  within  their  own 
peculiar  territories. 


ESSAY  ON  THE  ANALOGY  WHICH  SUBSISTS  BETWEEN  THE 
OPERATIONS  OF  NATURE  AND  THE  OPERATIONS  OF  POLITI- 
CAL ECONOMY. 

On  the  31st  of  the  same  month  he  read  another  essay  in  the 
class,  on  one  of  the  topics  of  Political  Economy,  around  which  the 
fertile  genius  of  Dr.  Chalmers  has  thrown  a  fascination  and  a 
splendour,  of  which  the  subject  was  not  previously  supposed  to  be 
susceptible.  How  thoroughly  his  pupil  was  imbued  with  the 
ardent  spirit  of  his  professor,  this  essay  most  powerfully  illus- 
trates. Every  reader  will  form  his  own  judgment  of  the  argu- 
ment. Of  the  composition  of  the  paper,  and  the  beauty  of  the 
illustration,  there  can  be  but  one  opinion 

It  has  been  said  by  some  writers  of  natural  history,  that  an  anti- 
dote to  the  venom  of  the  serpent  is  to  be  found  within  the  body  of 
the  animal  itself.  We  know  not  whether  there  be  any  truth  in  this 
assertion  ;  but  if  there  be,  that  must  surely  be  a  very  beautiful 
mechanism  by  which  those  very  organs  which  produce  a  deadly  poison, 
produce  also  a  remedy  for  its  fatal  effects ;  and  surely  that  arrange- 
ment is  a  display  of  the  most  consummate  wisdom  b}'  which  the 
efficient  cause  of  an  evil  is  also  the  efficient  cause  of  its  cure. 


298  APPENDIX. 

Now  there  is  a  principle  very  much  akin  to  this,  "vrhich  exists  in 
almost  all  the  operations  of  nature,  a  principle  to  which  nature  in 
a  great  measure  owes  that  constancy  for  which  she  has  been  so 
greatly  admired.  The  principle  we  refer  to  is  this,  —  That  an  ope- 
ration of  nature  whenever  it  arrives  at  that  stage  in  its  progress, 
where  its  effects  would  begin  to  be  detrimental,  by  a  very  beautiful 
constitution  of  things,  gives  rise  to  an  operation  of  an  opposite 
tendency,  and  thus  works  out  a  cure  for  those  very  evils  which  it- 
self seemed  to  threaten.  Thus,  were  we  unacquainted  with  the 
workings  of  nature,  and  did  we  behold  the  sun,  day  after  day,  shin- 
ing on  the  earth  with  unclouded  splendour;  and  did  we  perceive 
that,  day  after  day,  in  consequence  of  this  the  soil  was  becoming 
more  parched ;  and  did  we  further  know  that,  without  moisture, 
vegetation  would  cease,  and  the  fruits  of  the  earth  could  not  come 
to  perfection, — we  might  well  look  forward  with  the  most  dismal 
foreboding  to  what  would  seem  the  inevitable  consequence.  But 
how  would  our  fears  give  place  to  our  admiration  of  the  Creator's 
wisdom  and  goodness,  when  we  were  told  that  that  sun  which  we 
were  thus  contemplating  as  the  cause  of  so  much  misery,  was  at 
that  very  moment  gathering  by  the  influence  of  his  rays,  the  waters 
of  the  ocean,  and  suspending  them  in  mighty  reservoirs  above  us, 
which  would  again  gently  descend  over  the  whole  surface  of  our 
earth,  and  thus  refresh  the  drooping  plants,  and  give  a  new  impulse 
to  the  economy  of  vegetation.  There  is  another  very  beautiful 
instance  of  the  operation  of  this  principle.  When  any  particular 
region  of  the  earth  begins  to  be  overheated,  the  air  is  rarefied,  —  it 
consequently  ascends ;  the  cool  air  which  is  around,  rushes  in  to 
Bupply  its  place,  and  thus  does  a  refreshing  breeze  blow  over  that 
land,  which  had  else  been  in  a  short  time  rendered  uninhabitable. 

And  now  to  apply  this  to  the  subject  before  us.  In  the  opera- 
tions of  political  economy,  as  well  as  in  the  operations  of  nature, 
there  is  a  beautiful  constancy ;  and  it  is  truly  wonderful  to  think 
what  a  rough  handling  a  nation  will  come  through,  and  with  what 
hardihood  she  will  endure  it;  to  think  how  famine  and  pestilence, 
and  foreign  war,  and  internal  commotion,  will  successively  lay 
hold  of  her ;  and  how  she  will  escape  from  their  grasp,  and  in  a 
few  short  years  will  be  nearly  what  she  was  before  she  was  subjected 
to  it.     And  as  the  operations  of  political  economy  resemble  the  ope- 


NATURE    AND    POLITICAL    ECONOMY.      299 

rations  of  nature  in  their  constancy,  we  think  they  also  resemhle 
them  in  the  cause  of  this  constancy ;  and  we  shall  try  to  illustrate 
this  by  an  example  or  two. 

Thus,  in  every  country  there  should  be  a  certain  relation  between 
the  produce  and  the  population  ;  and  it  is  interesting  to  observe  how 
the  constancy  of  this  relation  is  maintained,  through  all  the  changes 
to  which  a  nation  is  exposed. 

Let  us  suppose,  for  example,  that  by  improvements  in  tilling  the 
ground,  in  the  rotations  of  the  crops,  &c.,  the  agricultural  pro- 
duce is  increased,  and  thus  the  constancy  of  the  relation  between 
the  produce  and  the  population  is  for  a  time  destroyed.  There  is  in 
this  instance  a  superabundance  of  produce,  or  what  is  the  same 
thing,  there  is  a  deficiency  of  population.  Now  let  us  see  how  the 
original  relation  between  them  is  again  restored.  The  agricultural 
produce  being  increased,  more  corn  is  brought  to  market,  and  the 
demand,  in  the  first  instance  at  least,  remains  the  same :  the  conse- 
quence is,  corn  is  cheapened.  The  cheapening  of  corn  again  puts 
more  of  the  inhabitants  in  a  condition  to  support  a  family ;  mar- 
riages take  place  earlier,  and  the  population  is  increased ;  and  tlma 
is  the  deficiency  made  up,  and  the  proper  relation  between  the  pro- 
duce and  the  population  again  restored. 

But  it  must  be  evident  to  every  one,  that  were  the  population  thus 
to  go  on  increasing  indefinitely,  the  proper  relation  would  soon  be 
more  than  restored,  the  ratio  would  become  reversed,  and  instead 
of  a  superabundance  of  produce,  there  would  soon  be  a  redundancy 
of  population.  But  here,  too,  may  we  behold  the  beautiful  eifect 
of  that  arrangement,  by  which  the  remedy  for  the  evil  is  involved 
in  the  evil  itself.  As  the  population  has  now  increased,  the  demand 
has  also  increased :  but  in  this  latter  instance  the  supply  has  re- 
mained the  same  ;  the  natural  consequence  of  which  is,  that  the 
price  of  corn  rises.  It  is  now  of  course  more  difiicult  to  support  a 
family ;  marriages  are  discouraged,  and  thus  does  the  very  increase 
of  population,  as  soon  as  it  comes  to  that  point  where  its  farther 
increase  would  be  detrimental,  actually  bring  a  check  upon  itself. 

Again,  from  various  causes  we  sometimes  see  an  old  manufacture 
abolished.  And  here  there  would  seem  to  be  a  great  and  immediate 
evil ;  a  vast  number  of  operatives  are  thrown  out  of  employment. 
And  yet,  if  we  consider  the  subject  attentively,  we  shall  find  that 


300  APPENDIX. 

here,  too,  as  well  as  in  the  example  already  adduced,  the  evil,  if  let 
alone,  will  remedy  itself.  And  wherever  we  thus  see  an  old  manu- 
facture abolished,  may  we  with  confidence  predict  that  the  wealth 
which  supported  that  manufacture,  will  either  give  rise  to  a  new 
one,  or  will  so  divide  itself  among  those  that  yet  remain,  as  to  give 
a  new  impulse  to  each.  And  thus  will  the  evil  be  remedied,  and  that 
class  of  the  community  which  have  been  thrust  from  their  old  occu- 
pation, will  either  find  employment  in  a  new  manufiicture,  or  will 
be  parceled  out  among  the  manufactures  that  yet  remain.  There  is 
still  as  much  food  for  them  in  the  country  as  before,  and  all  that 
they  will  suffer  will  merely  be  the  temporary  inconvenience  attend- 
ing a  change  of  employment. 

Were  one  of  the  mouths  of  the  Nile  to  be  stopped  up,  that  river 
"would  not  discharge  less  water  into  the  ocean  than  it  did  before. 
The  water  which  used  to  flow  through  that  channel,  would  at  first, 
it  is  true,  flow  backwards ;  but  it  would  not  continue  to  do  so,  nor 
would  it  even  remain  stationary  ;  it  would  seek  another  direction, 
and  it  would  either  overflow  the  banks,  and  hollow  out  a  new  channel 
for  itself,  or  it  would  divide  itself  and  flow  to  the  sea,  through  the 
channels  that  yet  remained.  And  here,  by  the  way,  would  we 
advert  to  that  political  delusion  which  M'ould  magnify  the  import- 
ance of  any  one  branch  of  manufacture  or  commerce.  The  waters 
of  the  ocean  would  not  be  diminished  by  one  drop,  because  they  had 
ceased  to  receive  the  tribute  of  that  stream.  So  long  as  the  same 
body  of  water  continued  to  flow  on  from  the  fountain  head,  so  long 
would  the  monarch  of  waters  know  no  diminution  in  his  resources. 
And  it  were  well  if  our  statesmen,  as  well  as  our  operatives,  could 
perceive  that  the  manufacture  does  not  produce  either  the  taxes  in 
the  one  case,  or  the  wages  in  the  other ;  that  it  is  merely  the  channel 
through  wliich  they  flow;  and  that  so  long  as  the  national  ability 
remains  the  same,  neither  the  revenues  of  the  state,  nor  the  wages 
of  the  operatives  will  suffer  one  iota  of  diminution  by  the  decay  of 
any  one  branch  of  commerce  or  manufacture.  We  do  not  say  that 
in  such  an  event  there  would  be  no  loss  at  all ;  but  we  do  afiirm  that 
ultimately  the  loss  would  not  be  sustained  by  the  government,  nor 
by  those  employed  in  the  manufacture,  but  by  the  public  at  large. 

To  return  to  our  illustration.  That  particular  branch  of  the  Nile 
might  have  added  much  to  the  beauty  of  the  scenery  on  its  banks, 


NATURE    AND     POLITICAL    ECONOMY.      301 

and  might  have  ministered  in  a  high  degree  to  the  enjoyment,  and 
even  to  the  comfort  of  those  who  dwelt  among  them  ;  and  the  stop- 
ping up  of  its  channel  would  be  felt  by  them  to  be  a  very  serious  incon- 
venience. And  thus,  too,  the  particular  branch  of  manufacture 
might  have  furnished  an  article  which  contributed  very  much  to  the 
enjoyment  or  the  comfort  of  the  public ;  and  in  so  far  its  decay 
might  be  felt  as  a  very  calamitous  event.  But  still  our  remark  holds 
true,  that  ultimately  the  operatives  will  not  suffer;  that  ultimately 
the  state  will  not  suffer  ;  that  in  this  respect  the  evil  will  remedy  itself; 
that  if  the  stream  of  public  wealth  flow  not  through  that  channel, 
it  will  seek  out  another,  and  that  if  there  be  a  temporary  stagnation 
till  the  new  outlet  be  formed,  it  will  be  compensated  by  the  more 
than  usual  rapidity  of  the  current,  when  it  has  cleared  away  the 
obstructions. 

We  hope  the  two  examples  we  have  adduced  may  have  been  suffi- 
cient to  illustrate  that  constitution  of  things,  by  which  an  evil  is 
made  to  remedy  itself,  and  to  show  how  the  operation  of  this  prin- 
ciple serves  to  regulate  the  vast  machinery  of  a  nation,  and  to  give 
a  constancy  and  a  steadiness  to  all  its  movements.  And  we  would 
now  ask  to  what  should  the  discovery  of  this  lead  us? 

AVe  might  have  concluded  a  'priori  that  that  God  whose  goodness 
is  over  all  his  works,  while  he  regulated  all  the  changes  of  nature, 
and  maintained  an  unvarying  constancy  in  all  her  operations,  would 
not  leave  to  chance,  or  to  the  guidance  of  mere  human  wisdom,  the 
regulation  of  those  principles  on  which  depends  the  temporal  hap- 
piness of  his  rational  creatures.  And  when  in  the  workings  of  these 
principles  we  discover  that  same  constancy  which  distinguishes  the 
operations  of  nature,  and  the  same  means  employed  to  preserve  that 
constancy  ;  and  when  we  perceive,  further,  that  all  this  may  go  on 
independent  of  our  knowledge,  and  most  certainly  does  go  on  inde- 
pendent of  our  direction  ;  should  it  not  go  very  much  to  strengthen 
the  conclusion?  Let  us  acknowledge  then,  that  there  is  here  the 
working  of  a  mightier  agency  than  man ;  and  let  us  ascribe  that 
constant  hardihood  with  which  a  nation  survives  all  the  changes 
that  pass  over  her,  to  the  care  and  the  wisdom  of  that  same  Mighty 
Being,  "  who  causeth  the  vapours  to  ascend  from  the  ends  of  the 
earth:  who  niaketh  lightnings  for  the  rain;  and  who  bringeth  the 
wind  out  of  his  treasuries.'' 

26 


302  APPENDIX. 

The  concluding  paragraph  is  a  beautiful  instance  of  the  prevail- 
ing disposition  of  the  writer's  mind,  and  of  the  happy  ease  with 
which  he  could  connect  every  speculation  and  exercise  with  his 
leading  and  darling  subject.  His  mind  traced  the  hand  of  the 
benevolent  Creator  in  all  his  operations,  whether  of  nature  or  of 
providence.  He  beheld  and  adored  his  wisdom,  both  in  the  un- 
controlable  and  efficient  laws  of  the  universe,  and  in  the  frame 
and  constitution  of  society.  What  affected  his  own  mind,  he  was 
desirous  should  affect  the  minds  of  others ;  and  "  out  of  the  ful- 
ness of  his  heart,  his  mouth  spake."  Yet  there  is  no  thrusting  of 
the  subject  forward.  It  is  not  only  presented  in  all  its  import- 
ance, but  with  the  grace  and  modesty  which  could  not  fail  to 
command  respect  and  attention. 


Not  satisfied  with  his  labours  in  the  several  classes  which  he 
attended,  he  took  an  active  part  in  a  Literary  Society,  consisting 
of  the  young  men  attending  the  University;  and  at  one  of  its 
meetings,  held  on  the  11th  of  December,  he  read  an  essay,  or 
delivered  a  speech^  on  the  following  subject :  — 

THAT  KNOWLEDGE  GIVES  ITS  POSSESSOR  MORE  POWER  THAN 
WEALTH  DOES. 

It  has  been  said  by  Lord  Bacon,  that  "knowledge  is  power,"  and 
the  same  thing  has  been  asserted  of  wealth  by  Mr.  Ilobbes.  And 
with  both  these  statements  we  perfectly  agree.  The  very  nature  of 
our  present  debate  presupposes  the  truth  of  both.  The  question  this 
evening  is,  "  Whether  does  wealth  or  knowledge  give  its  possessor 
more  power?"  Now  we  do  think  that  there  is  a  great  deal  of  vague- 
ness in  the  terms  of  the  question  ;  and  we  do  anticipate,  from  this,  a 
good  deal  of  misapprehension,  and  a  good  deal  of  wrangling  about 
words  and  definitions,  when,  after  all,  the  disputants  may  be  one 
in  sentiment.  There  are  various  views  that  may  be  taken  of  the 
question ;  and  we  shall  first  consider  it  in  its  strict  and  literal  inter- 


THE    POWER    OF    KNOWLEDGE.  30B 

pretation  ;  and  in  this  view,  we  think,  there  can  be  little  or  no  debate 
at  all.  The  very  fiercest  of  our  opponents,  we  should  think,  will 
allow,  that  wealth,  altogether  apart  from  knowledge,  can  accomplish 
nothing  at  all ;  for  a  certain  degree  of  knowledge  is  necessary  to  the 
right  application  of  Avealth.  An  idiot  might  lavish  the  most  bound- 
less fortune,  and  after  all  be  further  from  his  point  than  he  was  be- 
fore. On  the  other  hand,  we  frankly  confess,  that  knowledge,  alto- 
gether apart  from  wealth,  can  accomplish  but  little,  since  a  certain 
portion  of  wealth  is  necessary  to  carry  our  plans  into  execution. 
The  fact  is,  that,  to  accomplish  anything  of  importance,  they  must 
go  hand  in  hand,  knowledge  must  devise  the  plan,  and  wealth,  ia 
general,  must  furnish  the  means  to  carry  that  plan  into  execution. 
To  knowledge  and  wealth  may  we  justly  apply  the  language  of  Sallust, 
when  speaking  of  the  mind  and  the  body :  "  Utrumque  per  se  indigens, 
alterum  alterius  auxilio  eget." 

But  even  in  this  view  of  the  subject  there  are  some  things  which 
knowledge  can  do  altogether  independent  of  wealth,  though  we  know 
of  none  that  wealth  can  do  altogether  independent  of  knowledge. 
Thus,  with  a  mere  knowledge  of  the  power  of  the  lever,  (a  machine 
so  simple  that  it  may  be  had  for  nothing,)  I  can  raise  a  very  great 
weight;  a  thing  to  accomplish  which,  wealth  might  have  been  lavished 
in  vain. 

But  there  is  another  view  of  the  subject,  and  we  think  the  most 
correct  of  all,  in  which  wealth  itself  may  be  said  to  be  the  result  of 
knowledge,  and,  consequently,  all  the  power  which  is  attributed  to 
wealth  may  be  referred  to  knowledge  as  its  ultimate  cause.  And, 
that  this  a  correct  view,  a  very  slight  attention  to  the  subject  will 
convince  us.  Let  us  look  to  that  country  which  is  sunk  lowest  in 
the  depths  of  ignorance,  and  we  shall  invariably  find  that  that  coun- 
try too  is  sunk  lowest  in  the  depths  of  poverty  and  wretchedness; 
and  that,  on  the  other  hand,  that  country  which  stands  highest  in 
the  scale  of  knowledge,  stands  highest  also  in  the  scale  of  wealth. 
And  if  we  just  consider  how  much  commerce  is  indebted  to  the  inven- 
tion of  the  compass,  and  the  discoveries  of  astronomy,  and  how  much 
manufactures  owe  to  the  invention  of  machinery,  and  how  much 
their  productive  powers  are  thus  increased,  we  shall  come  to  the  con- 
clusion, that  almost,  if  not  altogether,  all  our  wealth  is  the  result  of 
our  knowledge.     Most  justly  then,  viewing  the  subject  in  this  light, 


804  APPENDIX. 

might  we  turn  the  weapons  of  our  opponents  against  themselves, 
and  make  their  every  argument,  for  their  side  of  the  question,  tu  tell 
most  powerfully  against  them  on  our  own. 

But  this,  though  the  most  just  and  philosophical  view  of  the  ques- 
tion, is  evidently  not  the  view  that  was  intended  to  be  taken  of  it : 
for  it  is  a  view  that  resolves  the  question  itself  into  an  absurdity  — 
a  view,  which,  if  the  framers  of  the  question  had  taken,  they  would 
never  have  framed  it  at  all.  And  though  we  could  thus  take  the  advan- 
tage of  our  adversaries  by  disarming  them,  and  then  by  those  very 
arms,  compelling  them  to  surrender,  we  are  not  reduced  to  such  a 
shift ;  we  can  meet  them  upon  more  honourable  terms. 

AVe  shall  therefore  attempt  to  show,  that,  even  in  the  more  loose 
and  ordinary  interpretation  of  the  question,  knowledge  gives  its  pos- 
sessor more  power  than  wealth  does.  And,  as  the  word  power  is 
very  general  and  undefined,  we  shall  take  two  modifications  of  it ; 
viz.,  mechanical  power,  and  political  power.  By  the  mechanical 
power  of  knowledge,  we  mean  that  power  which  it  gives  us  over  inani- 
mate nature ;  and,  by  political  power,  that  power  which  it  give  us  over 
our  fellow-men ;  and  from  both  these  acceptations  of  the  term,  we 
shall  try  to  show,  that  knowledge  gives  us  more  power  than  wealth. 
First,  with  regard  to  its  mechanical  poAver.  We  would  remark  here, 
that  two  agents  may  both  be  capable  of  performing  the  same  thing, 
and  yet  the  power  of  the  one  may  very  much  exceed  that  of  the 
other ;  and  in  such  a  case  we  must  estimate  their  relative  power  by 
the  efibrt  which  it  costs  each  to  perform  the  thing  in  view,  and  we 
shall  find  that  the  power  is  inversely  as  the  efibrt.  Thus  I  may  be 
able  to  lift  a  weight  with  my  little  finger,  which  a  child  can  do  only 
by  exerting  his  whole  strength,  and  in  this  case  I  am  said  to  have 
more  power  than  the  child,  because  the  efibrt  it  costs  me  to  do  the 
same  thing  is  not  so  great.  Now,  we  shall  take  a  case  analogous  to 
this  where  something  is  to  be  done,  and  where  knowledge  and  wealth 
may  be  said  to  be  the  agents,  where  we  have  a  distinct  view  of  the' 
way  in  which  each  performs  it.*  Wealth  performs  the  taskj  but  it 
is  with  such  an  eff'ort  as  almost  drained  the  cofi'ers  of  even  Roman 
resources.  She  builds  a  gigantic  bridge  across  the  valley,  while 
knowledge  accomplishes  the  same  object  by  simply  laying  a  pipe 
along  the  ground.  When  we  compare  the  vast  and  imposing  fabric 
of  an  ancient   aqueduct  with  the  simple,  and  withal,  undignified 

*  The  problem  iy  to  carry  water  across  a  valley. 


THE    POWER    OF    KNOWLEDGE.  305 

apparatus  of  a  modern  water-pipe,  we  cannot  fail  to  be  struck  with 
the  ease  and  simplicity  with  which  knowledge  can  perform  that 
which  it  costs  wealth  such  an  effort  to  accomplish.  And  one  would 
think,  that  in  viewing  these  proud  remains  of  Roman  wealth  and 
Roman  ignorance,  a  feeling  of  the  painfully  ludicrous  would  stifle 
our  rising  admiration  of  their  sublimity,  and  that  the  very  grandeur 
of  their  structure,  when  compared  with  their  design,  would  remind 

us  of 

"an  ocean  into  tempest  wrought 

To  waft  a  feather,  or  to  drown  a  fly." 

But  though,  in  the  present  instance,  wealth,  by  the  mightiness  of 
the  effort,  may  seem  to  rival  knowledge  in  solving  the  problem,  there 
are  many  instances  were  she  is  left  far  behind,  and  cannot  by  the 
very  mightiest  efforts,  come  up  with  knowledge. 

By  the  assistance  of  knowledge,  we  are  enabled  almost  by  a  touch 
of  our  finger,  to  raise  the  most  immense  weights,  and  may  almost  be 
said  to  weigh  the  mountains  in  scales,  and  the  hills  in  a  balance. 
By  her  assistance  can  we  scour  the  unknown  regions  of  ether,  and 
penetrate  the  still  more'secret  caverns  of  the  deep.  By  her  assist- 
ance too,  can  we  guide  a  floating  city  over  the  main,  and  turn  it  at 
our  will  by  a  little  helm.  By  her  assistance,  too,  can  we  impress 
the  very  elements  into  our  service,  and  make  the  winds  our  messen- 
gers, and  the  water  and  the  fire  our  slaves.  And  by  her  assistance, 
too,  can  we  give  to  inanimate  objects  all  the  vigour  of  animal  life; 
thus  creating  for  ourselves  a  Behemoth,  whose  bones  are  brass,  and 
sinews  bars  of  iron;  thus  making  him  our  slave,  and  forcing  him  to 
prepare  for  us  those  necessaries  and  conveniences  which  formerly 
we  obtained  by  the  sweat  of  our  brow.  Such  is  the  power  of  know- 
ledge ;  and,  till  our  adversaries  can  give  us  instances  of  the  power 
of  wealth,  which  can  be  compared  with  them,  we  think  that  we  have 
gained  the  question. 

We  intended  nest  to  have  treated  of  political  power ;  but  we  shall 
first  hear  refuted  the  arguments  we  have  already  adduced. 

26* 


3Q6  APPENDIX. 

None  of  my  young  friend's  Essays  have  pleased  me  more  than 
the  one,  which  is  now  to  follow.  It  was  read  to  the  moral  class, 
on  the  10th  of  January,  1825.  The  subject  afforded  a  favourable 
opportunity  of  introducing  the  evangelical  system,  and  that 
opportunity  was  not  neglected.  But  there  is  more  than  the 
introduction  of  the  system — there  is  a  beautiful  exposition  of  it, 
in  which  the  writer  steers  clear  of  the  selfish  system  of  Sande- 
nian  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  ultra-spirituality  of  some  of  the 
American  divines  on  the  other.  The  one  does  not  sufficiently 
distinguish  between  self-love  and  selfishness  ;  the  other  treats  man 
as  if  he  were  a  being  capable  of  merging  all  his  personal  feelings 
and  interests,  in  a  vague  and  undefined  idea  of  God,  and  of  holi- 
ness. The  Scriptures  never  require  us  to  lose  sight  of  our  per- 
sonal interest  in  the  divine  favour ;  but  they  never  urge  it  as  the 
principal  or  the  only  plea,  that  we  should  do  the  will  of  God. 
They  bring  us,  as  is  here  well  stated,  under  the  influence  of  the 
great  principles  which  govern  Deity  himself ;  and  thus  combine 
the  perfect  enjoyment  of  blessedness,  with  the  perfect  exercise 
of  benevolence. 


AN  ESSAY  ON  THE  SELFISH  SYSTEM. 

We  are  told  of  the  Emperor  Nero,  among  his  other  unnatural 
actions,  that  no  sooner  was  his  appetite  so  satiated  with  one  course 
of  gluttony,  as  to  refuse  more  food,  than  he  again  fitted  himself  in  a 
most  revolting  manner,  for  renewing  the  round  of  sensual  gratifica- 
tion. Of  another  individual  we  are  told  that  such  was  his  dread  of 
future  disease  and  death,  that  he  sat  continually  in  one  scale  of  a 
balance,  with  a  counterpoise  in  the  other,  and  that  it  was  his  con- 
stant employment  to  watch  the  deflections  of  the  beam,  and  most 
studiously  to  preserve  the  equality  of  the  balance,  so  that  he  never 
took  food  till  his  own  scale  ascended,  and  stopped  eating  as  soon  as 
the  equilibrium  was  restored.  As  the  motives  which  induced  each 
of  these  individuals  to  take  food  are  evidently  very  different  from 
each  other,  so  are  the  motives  of  both  strikingly  different  from  those 


ESSAY    ON    SELFISHNESS.  307 

which  in  this  matter  actuate  the  great  mass  of  mankind.  Of  the 
first  individual  we  would  say,  that  pleasure  was  his  object,  and  that 
he  took  food  merely  as  a  means  of  obtaining  this  pleasure.  With 
regard  to  the  second,  again,  we  would  say  that  it  was  self-love  that 
dictated  his  extraordinary  conduct ;  that  he  took  food,  not  like  the 
other,  for  the  sake  of  gratifying  his  palate,  but  purely  from  a  con- 
sideration of  the  posterior  advantages  which  would  thence  accrue  to 
him.  With  the  great  mass  of  mankind,  again  we  would  say,  that 
hunger  is  the  primary  and  ruling  incitement;  that  they  eat  not  in 
general  to  gratify  their  palate,  and  far  less  from  a  consideration  of 
any  posterior  advantage;  but  chiefly  for  the  purpose  of  satisfying 
their  appetite.  Food  is  not  used  by  them  as  the  mere  means  of  ob- 
taining something  else,  it  is  itself  the  primary  and  terminating  object 
of  their  desire. 

From  these  familiar  illustrations,  we  think  we  may  discover  the 
difference  between  self-love,  and  the  more  special  affections  of  our 
nature.  The  chief  distinction  seems  to  be,  that  the  latter  terminate 
in  some  external  object,  while  the  former  uses  that  object  as  a  means 
of  promoting  some  plan  of  future  interest.  Of  all  the  characters  we 
have  mentioned,  only  one  seems  to  have  been  actuated  by  self- 
love,  he  who  took  food  from  a  sense  of  the  beneficial  effects  which 
would  follow.  It  may  be  thought,  that  Nero,  too,  was  actuated  by 
selfishness,  inasmuch  as  he  used  the  food  as  a  means  of  obtaining 
something  else ;  but  on  a  close  examination,  we  shall  find  that  it 
was  not  the  love  of  self,  but  the  love  of  pleasure,  which  was  his 
actuating  motive ;  that  if  he  had  any  regard  to  self-interest,  his  con- 
duct would  have  been  altogether  different:  that  he  was  in  fact  pur- 
suing a  line  of  conduct  in  direct  opposition  to  all  that  self-love  would 
dictate.  We  may  here  just  remark  by  the  way,  the  wisdom  display- 
ed in  this  constitution  of  our  animal  frame.  Our  Creator  has  not 
left  us  to  discover  that  without  being  invigorated  by  food,  and  re- 
freshed by  sleep,  our  bodies  could  not  long  subsist ;  and  thus,  from 
a  principle  of  self-love  to  attend  to  the  taking  of  food  and  repose, 
as  duties  which  it  was  necessary  to  perform,  in  order  to  self-preser- 
vation :  but  He  has  endowed  us  with  special  affections ;  with  a  de- 
sire for  food  and  sleep  when  the  body  requires  them:  just  as  he  has 
given  us  a  sense  of  injury,  and  a  feeling  of  resentment,  to  preserve 
us  from  the  injustice  of  our  fellow  men. 


308  APPENDIX. 

Now  in  morals  there  are  facts  analogous  to  those  -vrhich  we  havo 
just  mentioned,  with  regard  to  our  animal  frame.  As  there  is  a  de- 
sire for  food  altogether  apart  from  any  future  consequences  ;  and  as 
there  is  a  more  immediate  pleasure,  and  a  more  remote  advantage 
which  attend  the  satisfying  of  this  desire, — so  is  there  a  motive  to  the 
performance  of  a  virtuous  action,  altogether  for  its  own  sake,  and 
apart  from  all  its  consequences ;  and  there  is  also  a  more  immedi- 
ate pleasure,  and  a  more  remote  happiness  attending  the  perform- 
ance of  such  an  action.  As  it  has  appeared  that  there  are  diifferent 
motives  which  may  induce  us  to  take  food,  so  are  there  diiferent 
motives  which  may  urge  us  to  the  performance  of  a  virtuous  deed. 
The  abettors  of  the  selfish  system  seem  to  have  erred  in  confound- 
ing these  together,  or  rather  in  making  the  one  motive  of  selfishness 
swallow  up  the  rest. 

It  may  be  true  that  much  of  the  seeming  virtue  of  our  world  must 
be  put  to  the  account  of  selfishness ;  and  much  of  it,  too,  to  the 
account  of  sentimentalism ;  and  yet,  is  it  true,  that  virtue  may  be 
followed  for  her  own  sake  ;  that  she  has  a  native  grace  and  attrac- 
tion of  her  own,  altogether  independent  of  the  pleasure  and  the  hap- 
piness which  follow  in  her  train. 

In  the  illustration  which  we  took  from  our  animal  nature,  we  felt 
it  difiicult  to  adduce  a  solitary  instance  where  selfishness  was  the 
actuating  motive ;  and  there  one  would  think  it  impossible  to  con- 
found, unless  designedly,  self-love,  with  the  more  special  affections ; 
but  in  the  moral  world,  alas,  the  case  is  different.  Here  are  thou- 
sands who  perform  virtuous  actions,  altogether  from  selfish  motives, 
for  one  that  follows  virtue  for  her  own  sake.  And  when  we  find  that 
many  seem  virtuous  in  their  outward  conduct,  who  care  not  to  swerve 
from  the  path  of  rectitude,  if  they  can  but  do  it  unobserved  ;  that 
the  merchant  who  would  shudder  at  the  thought  of  forgery,  or  any 
such  gross  and  palpable  crime,  can  yet  in  his  every  day  transactions, 
impose  on  those  he  deals  with,  and  indulge  in  a  thousand  little  and 
unperceived  deceits ;  and  when  we  find  that  this  is  a  true  delinea- 
tion of  the  moral  character,  not  of  one  in  a  city,  or  even  one  in  a 
family,  but  of  the  great  bulk  of  our  species,  —  need  we  wonder  that, 
from  such  a  view  of  human  nature,  some  should  have  come  to  the 
conclusion  that  all  virtue  is  the  result  of  selfishness,  or  rather  that 
there  is  no  true  virtue  at  all  ? 


ESSAY    ON    SELFISHNESS.  309 

But  all  this  is  easily  accounted  for  by  the  fact,  that  a  blight  hath 
corrupted  the  moral  scenery  of  our  world ;  and  it  jiist  tallies  with 
what  we  are  told  in  the  book  of  revelation,  of  the  total  depravity  of 
our  whole  race. 

If,  then,  there  were  a  system  which  professed  to  be  able  to  renew 
our  nature,  and  to  restore  us  to  our  original  purity,  we  should  most 
confidently  expect  that  the  disciples  of  such  a  system  should  follow 
virtue,  not  from  any  selfish  principle,  but  simply  and  solely  for  her 
own  sake.  There  is  such  a  system,  by  which  these  expectations  have 
been  fully  realized, — even  the  system  of  evangelical  Christianity. 
We  know  that  it  has  been  asserted,  that  here,  too,  self-love  is  the 
actuating  motive ;  that  the  disciples  of  this  system  are  influenced  in 
their  conduct  by  the  hope  of  reward,  and  the  fear  of  punishment ; 
but  if  we  rightly  understand  this  system,  the  assertion  is  most  false. 
It  is  true  that  the  evangelical  system  makes  its  first  appeal  to  our 
self-love,  or  otherwise  it  could  not  have  been  adapted  to  depraved  and 
selfish  creatures ;  but  it  is  equally  true  that  the  virtue  to  which  it 
leads,  is  of  the  most  pure  and  disinterested  nature.  The  way  in 
which  this  is  accomplished,  is,  we  think,  well  illustrated,  in  the  case 
of  that  young  man  who  was  couched  for  a  cataract  in  the  beginning 
of  the  last  century,  and  whose  case  so  much  interested  the  philoso- 
phers of  Europe.  To  induce  him  to  submit  to  the  operation,  his 
friends  told  him  of  the  loveliness  of  scenery,  and  of  the  pleasure  to 
be  derived  from  gazing  on  beautiful  objects.  —  Such  reasoning  had 
no  efi'ect,  —  he  conld  form  no  conception  of  beauty;  they  were  in 
fact  addressing  a  special  afiection  which  did  not  exist.  An  appeal 
was  made  to  his  self-love,  he  was  told  of  the  advantages  to  be  do- 
rived  from  reading,  and  this  we  are  told,  proved  efiectual.  And 
thus  it  is  that  the  gospel  addresses  itself  to  man.  It  might  tell  him 
of  the  loveliness  of  virtue,  and  the  deformity  of  vice ;  and  well  do 
we  know  that  such  reasoning  would  prove  utterly  powerless.  True, 
he  has  a  faculty  for  perceiving  moral  beauty,  just  as  the  blind  man 
has  an  eye ;  but  as  in  his  case,  too,  there  is  a  thick  film  spread  over 
it.  True,  the  most  depraved  of  our  race  can  distinguish  virtue  from 
vice,  and  perceive  a  Tightness  in  the  one,  and  a  wrongness  in  the 
other,  just  as  many  blind  people  can  tell  the  light  from  the  dark- 
ness ;  but  just  as  they  cannot  perceive  that  harmonious  variety  of 
colour  and  shade  which  constitutes  the  loveliness  of  natural  scenery, 


SIO  APPENDIX. 

so  cannot  the  unrenewed  mind  perceive  that  which  is  so  emphati- 
cally termed  the  "  beauty  of  holiness."  The  same  appeal  which  proved 
effectual  in  the  case  of  him  who  was  blind,  is  also  effectual  in  the 
case  of  fallen  man,  —  an  appeal  to  self-love.  The  Bible  can  tell  him 
of  the  future  punishment  of  sin,  and  to  the  M'hispers  of  his  own 
conscience  it  can  add  the  voice  of  its  authority,  in  telling  him  that 
he  is  a  sinner :  it  can  constrain  him  to  cry  out,  "  What  shall  I  do  to 
be  saved?"  and  to  such  a  question  it  can  give  a  most  satisfactory 
answer.  If  he  is  thus  led  to  accept  of  its  terms,  he  no  sooner  does 
so,  than  the  film  which  obscured  his  moral  vision  is  removed.  He 
is  now  in  some  degree  restored  to  the  lost  image  of  the  Godhead, 
and  can  therefore  perceive  an  independent  beauty  in  virtue,  and  an 
independent  deformity  in  vice.  It  is  not  now,  we  conceive,  from 
the  hope  of  heaven,  or  the  fear  of  hell,  that  he  is  virtuous ;  it  is  be- 
cause he  loves  holiness  that  he  follows  after  it;  —  it  is  because  he 
hates  sin  that  he  flees  from  it ;  his  attachment  to  the  one,  and  hia 
recoil  from  the  other,  will  still  continue  to  strengthen  :  and  even  now, 
all  weak  and  imperfect  as  they  are,  do  they  proceed  from  a  principle 
similar  to  that  which  determines  the  choice  of  Deity  himself. 

Little  do  they  understand  the  evangelical  system,  who  urge  against 
it  the  plea  that  the  virtue  of  its  disciples  is  a  virtue  of  selfishness. 
So  far  is  this  from  being  the  case,  that  let  but  self-love  be  the  prin- 
ciple that  regulates  our  conduct,  —  let  but  the  hope  of  reward,  and 
the  fear  of  punishment  be  all  that  prompts  us  to  virtue,  and  the 
reward  itself  will  never  follow.  Some  there  have  been,  who  from 
this  principle  have  refrained  from  many  of  the  vices,  and  even  from 
many  of  the  innocent  enjoyments  of  life,  —  -who  have  been  ingeni- 
ous in  inventing  self-torments  here,  that  they  might  escape  eternal 
punishment  hereafter  ;  but  yet,  is  the  character  of  such  virtue,  and 
the  final  judgment  which  shall  be  passed  upon  it,  most  truly  de- 
Bcribed  by  the  poet,  when  he  exclaims, 

"  What  is  all  righteousness  that  men  devise  ? 
What,  —  but  a  sordid  bargain  for  the  skies  ? 
But  Christ  as  soon  would  abdicate  his  own, 
As  stoop  from  heaven  to  sell  the  proud  a  throne." 


REWAUDS    AND    PUNISHMENTS.  311 


D. 


THE  DOCTRINE   OF  A  GRADATION   IN   REWARDS  AND  PUNISH- 
MENTS; AND  AN  ATTEMPT  TO  APPLY  rT  TO  THE  SUBJECT  OP 

MISSIONS. 

In  all  those  descriptions  of  the  final  retribution  which  are  given 
us  in  the  Bible,  our  attention  is  called  to  two  great  divisions  of  the 
inhabitants  of  our  world:  namely,  "Those  who  shall  go  away  into 
everlasting  punishment ;  and  those  who  shall  go  into  life  eternal/' 
But,  though  there  be  thus  one  grand  classification  of  our  whole 
species,  where  the  line  of  demarcation  is  very  broad  and  very  strongly 
marked ;  yet  in  the  same,  description,  do  we  find  an  account  given 
of  minuter  sub-divisions,  whose  bounding  lines  are  not  so  vivid,  but 
which  imperceptibly  shade  into  and  blend  with  each  other.  And 
we  think  ourselves  fully  warranted  to  suppose,  that  there  will  be 
difi'erent  degrees  of  glory  on  the  one  hand,  and  different  degrees  of 
punishment  on  the  other ;  and  that  these  will  be  determined  by  the 
privileges  we  have  enjoyed  on  earth,  and  the  degree  to  which  those 
privileges  have  been  improved  or  neglected.  He  that  had  gained 
ten  pounds  was  made  ruler  over  ten  cities  ;  he  that  gained  five,  over 
five  cities.  And  again,  '*  That  servant  which  knew  his  Lord's  will, 
and  prepared  not  himself,  neither  did  according  to  his  will,  shall  be 
beaten  with  many  stripes ;  but  he  that  knew  not,  and  did  commit 
things  worthy  of  stripes,  shall  be  beaten  with  few  stripes.  For  unto 
whomsoever  much  is  given,  of  him  shall  much  be  required;  and  to 
whom  men  have  committed  much,  of  him  they  will  ask  the  more.'' 
But  this  doctrine  of  a  gradation  in  rewards  and  punishments  has 
been  thought,  by  some,  inconsistent  with  the  Scripture  doctrine  of 
justification  by  faith  ;  and  inconsistent  with  the  free  and  unmerited 
nature  of  that  reward  which  shall  be  given  to  those  who  are  thus 
justified.  Were  the  glory  promised  a  fair  return  for  our  well-doings, 
there  might  then  be  some  force  in  the  objection ;  but  when  we  con- 
sider, that,  after  we  have  done  all  that  we  are  commanded,  (and, 
who  is  there  that  can  boast  of  having  done  so  ?)  we  are  still  unpro- 
fitable servants  ;  and  when  we  consider  that  sin  mingles  with  our 


312  APPENDIX. 

best  services,  which  cannot,  therefore,  be  pleasing  to  that  God  who 
cannot  look  upon  iniquity  but  with  abhorrence ;  we  shall  perceive, 
that  this  view  of  the  final  retribution,  far  from  being  at  variance 
with  the  grand  and  fundamental  doctrine  of  the  gospel,  magnifies  it 
and  does  it  honour ;  inasmuch  as  it  is  the  imputed  righteousness  of 
Christ,  which  imparts  to  our  actions  all  in  them  that  is  pleasing,  and 
all  that  is  acceptable  to  God. 

The  doctrine  of  the  cross  is  represented  in  the  Bible  as  the  foun- 
dation, and  the  virtuous  actions  of  believers  as  the  superstructure 
which  is  built  upon  it;  the  latter,  deriving  all  their  strength  and  all 
their  stability  from  the  former :  standing  upon  it,  and  falling  in 
utter  impotency  to  the  ground  as  soon  as  it  is  removed.  "  For  other 
foundation,"  says  Paul,  "  can  no  man  lay  than  that  is  laid,  which  is 
Jesus  Christ.  Now  if  any  man  build  upon  this  foundation,  gold, 
silver,  precious  stones,  wood,  hay,  stubble ;  every  man's  work  shall 
be  made  manifest,  for  the  day  shall  declare  it,  because  it  shall  be 
revealed  by  fire ;  and  the  fire  shall  try  every  man's  work  of  what 
sort  it  is.  If  any  man's  work  abide,  which  he  hath  built  thereupon, 
he  shall  receive  a  reward.  If  any  man's  work  shall  be  burned,  he 
shall  sufi'er  loss  ;  but  he  himself  shall  be  saved,  yet  so  as  by  fire.'^ 

There  seems,  then,  to  be  a  connection  between  the  degree  of  active 
exertion  here,  and  the  degree  of  reward  hereafter ;  and  also  a  con- 
nection between  the  degree  of  sufi"ering  here,  and  the  degree  of  glory 
that  shall  follow.  "  He  which  soweth  sparingly,"  says  Paul,  "  shall 
reap  also  sparingly ;  and  he  which  soweth  bountifully  shall  reap 
also  bountifully."  And  the  same  apostle  assures  us,  that  "  our  light 
afiliction  which  is  but  for  a  moment,  worketh  out  for  us  a  ftir  more 
exceeding  and  eternal  weight  of  glory." 

Of  the  truth  of  these  remarks,  we  have  a  very  beautiful  illustra- 
tion in  the  mediatorial  character  of  the  Son  of  God.  His  was  a  life 
of  the  most  strenuous  exertion  ;  it  was  his  meat,  and  his  drink  to  do 
the  will  of  his  Father.  His,  too,  was  a  life  of  the  most  unparalleled 
sufiering.  He  was  emphatically  "  a  man  of  sorrows,  and  acquainted 
with  grief."  And  as  he  sufi"ered  more  than  any  one  of  his  fi)llowers, 
as  his  visage  was  marred,  more  than  any  man,  and  his  form  more 
than  the  sons  of  men,  so  shall  his  glory  far  exceed  that  of  any  of 
those  whom  He  condescends  to  call  his  brethren.  It  is  the  connec- 
tion between  his  unwearied  exertion  and  his  reward  :  the  connection 


REWARDS    AND    PUNISHMENTS.  313 

between  his  sufferings,  and  his  glory,  that  we  especially  advert  to. 
Paul  tells  us  that  it  became  him  "  by  whom  are  all  things,  and  for 
whom  are  all  things,  to  make  the  Captain  of  our  salvation  perfect 
through  suffering."  And  it  is  after  giving  an  account  of  the  humili- 
ation of  our  Lord,  that  the  apostle  adds,  "  Therefore,  (on  which 
account)  God  also  hath  highly  exalted  him,  and  given  him  a  name 
which  is  above  every  name."  But  it  may  be  thought  that  though 
these  remarks  hold,  in  their  fullest  extent,  with  regard  to  Him  who 
•was  without  sin,  and  who  could  demand,  as  his  due,  that  reward 
■which  was  but  a  fair  compensation  for  his  faultless  accomplishment 
of  the  work  which  was  given  him  to  do ;  yet  that  they  are  wholly 
misapplied  with  regard  to  those  whose  very  best  services  are  polluted 
and  mingled  with  sin.  It  is  true  that  we  can  make  no  demand, 
that  we  have  no  plea  to  urge  at  the  hands  of  justice,  that  our  very 
salvation  from  wrath  is  a  matter  of  purest  mercy,  of  free  and  un- 
merited favour.  But  yet  it  is  true,  that  "God  is  not  unrighteous  to 
forget  our  work  and  labour  of  love  ;"  and  we  are  assured  that  if  we 
suffer  with  Christ,  we  shall  also  reign  with  him. 

We  shall  first,  then,  consider  it  as  a  privilege  to  be  permitted  to 
labour  in  the  cause  of  Christ;  and  we  shall  advert  to  one  or  two  of 
the  ways  in  which  we  can  share  in  his  sufferings,  and  consequently 
be  made  partakers  of  His  glory.  First,  then,  Jesus  Christ  was  a 
martyr.  He  sealed  his  testimony  with  his  blood.  And  hence  the 
promise,  "  Be  thou  faithful  unto  death  and  I  will  give  thee  a  crown 
of  life."  And  hence  the  willingness,  nay,  the  eagerness  of  the  first 
disciples  to  gain  a  martyr's  crown.  Yes,  there  was  a  time  when 
the  followers  of  Him  whom  Pilate  crucified,  were  proud  to  show 
their  attachment  to  their  Master,  at  the  expense  of  life  itself.  But 
those  days  of  fiery  trial  are  gone.  And  too  much  cause  have  we  to 
fear,  that  the  spirit  of  martyrdom  is  gone  along  with  them.  That 
spirit  of  fervent  love  to  God,  and  of  devoted  attachment  to  each 
other,  which  so  distinguished  the  early  Christians,  as  to  draw  forth 
the  applauses  even  of  their  enemies,  is  gone  with  the  persecution 
which  was  the  cause  of  it ;  and  there  hath  come  in  its  room  a  spirit 
of  cold  and  heartless  profession ;  a  spirit  of  animosity  and  dissen- 
sion among  those  of  whom  once  it  was  said,  "  Behold,  how  these 
Christians  love  one  another."  The  test  of  faithfulness  unto  death 
you  cannot  now  make.     In  our  land  at  least,  the  voice  of  persecu- 

27 


814  APPENDIX. 

tion  has  long  "been  silent.  But  though  your  faith  cannot  now  be 
thus  tried  in  reality,  did  you  never  in  imagination  bring  your  Chris- 
tianity to  this  test?  After  having  read  of  the  unwavering  constancy 
of  a  Hamilton,  or  of  the  still  more  recent  suiferings  of  a  "Wishart, 
■whose  memory  yet  lives  so  palpably  in  all  that  is  around  us,  did  you 
never  ask  your  own  hearts  the  question,  "  Would  I  have  acted  thus?'' 
And  in  the  glow  of  enthusiastic  feeling,  have  you  not  thought  with 
the  generous  and  warm-hearted,  yet  self-confident  apostle,  that  you 
were  ready  to  follow  your  Master  to  prison,  and  to  death  ?  Like 
Peter,  you  may  indulge  in  the  romantic  thought  of  your  attach- 
ment, and  your  constancy;  without,  like  him,  having  your  feelings 
tried  by  the  test  of  stern  reality. 

But,  though  the  crown  of  martyrdom  is  now  placed  beyond  our 
reach,  and  in  this  particular  we  can  no  longer  drink  of  the  cup 
which  Jesus  drank,  nor  be  baptized  with  the  baptism  which  he  was 
baptized  with,  is  there  no  other  way  in  which  we  can  suffer  with 
Christ,  and  consequently  reign  with  him  ?  Is  there  no  other  feature 
of  the  Saviour's  character,  whose  resemblance  we  can  yet  trace  upon 
our  own  ?  There  is  such  a  feature,  one  of  the  most  prominent  in  all 
the  mediatorial  characters  of  the  Son  of  God.  Not  only  was  he  a 
martyr,  he  was  also  a  missionary.  He  came  on  a  mission  to  our 
world.  He  came  to  preach  the  gospel  to  the  poor.  He  was  sent  to 
heal  the  broken-hearted,  to  preach  deliverance  to  the  captives,  and 
recovering  of  sight  to  the  blind,  — to  set  at  liberty  them  that  were 
bruised, — to  preach  the  acceptable  year  of  the  Lord.  It  was  for 
this  that  he  left  the  bosom  of  the  Father.  It  was  for  this  that  he 
emptied  himself,  and  took  upon  him  the  form  of  a  slave.  It  was  for 
this  that  he  exchanged  a  throne  of  glory  for  a  manger,  and  the 
praises  of  sinless  angels  for  the  revilings  of  sinful  men.  And  it  is 
in  the  same  cause  that  the  missionary  now  goes  forth,  leaving  father 
and  mother,  and  houses  and  lands. 

It  has  often  struck  us  that  those  very  objections  which  are  now 
urged  against  the  preaching  of  the  gospel  to  the  heathen,  might  have 
been  brought  with  equal  plausibility  against  the  first  preaching  of 
the  gospel  to  our  world.  When  you  have  heard  the  opposers  of  mis- 
sions argue  about  the  insufiiciency  of  the  means  for  the  end  in  view, 
and  in  support  of  this  objection,  proudly  appeal  to  the  fact  that 
little  has  yet  been  accomplished,  did  it  never  occur  to  you,  that 


REWARDS    AND    PUNISHMENTS.  315 

such,  in  all  probability,  would  be  the  reasonings  of  those  who 
opposed  the  ministry  of  our  Lord  and  his  disciples? 

Just  picture  to  yourself  a  few  poor  and  illiterate  men,  with  nothing 
that  was  imposing  in  their  outward  appearance,  sometimes  without 
a  place  where  to  lay  their  head,  and  sometimes  eating  of  the  ears  of 
corn,  to  satisfy  their  hunger.  And  when  your  imagination  has  filled 
up  this  outline  of  apparent  meanness  and  poverty ;  just  think  of  the 
mighty  revolution  which  they  professed  was  to  be  brought  about  by 
their  instrumentality,  and  you  may  conceive  the  sneers  of  philosophic 
pride  with  which  these  professions  would  be  contemplated.  You 
may  well  conceive  what  would  be  the  feelings  of  the  literati  of  the 
day ;  how  they  would  remember  the  vain  attempts  of  a  Socrates  and 
a  Plato,  and  all  the  master  spirits  of  antiquity,  to  reform  the  man- 
ners even  of  their  own  countrymen  ;  and  how  they  would  laugh  at 
the  pretensions  of  an  illiterate  tradesman,  the  son  of  a  common 
mechanic,  who  professed  that  the  system  which  he  taught  should 
one  day  be  acknowledged  by  the  whole  world.  So  much  for  the 
apparent  insufficiency  of  the  means  for  the  end. 

But  mark,  this  was  not  all.  Think  again  of  the  little  success 
which  seemed  to  accompany  his  preaching,  think  of  the  few  follow- 
ers whom  he  had  gathered  round  him,  after  spending  thirty  years 
in  the  scene  of  his  labours.  And  think  of  the  inconstancy  of  these 
few,  when  the  day  of  persecution  arrived.  The  followers  of  Socrates 
stood  by  him,  when  he  drank  the  fatal  cup  ;  but  the  disciples  of  Jesu» 
forsook  him  and  fled.  Think  of  his  death  as  a  common  malefactor : 
and  then  can  you  wonder,  if  even  the  most  devoted  of  his  followers, 
thought  all  was  over;  and  if,  in  the  bitterness  of  their  sorrow, 
they  confessed  to  the  unknown  inquirer  that  their  hopes  had  died 
with  their  Master,  but  that  once  they  "  trusted  that  this  had  been  he 
who  should  have  redeemed  Israel  2" 

But  the  opposers  of  missions  tell  us,  that  here  the  means,  though 
apparently  inadequate,  were  not  so  in  reality ;  that  the  men  were 
inspired  by  the  Spirit  of  God.  We  immediately  answer  them,  by 
applying  the  very  same  argument  to  the  operations  of  the  present 
day.  The  means,  though  seemingly  inadequate,  are  not  so  in  reality. 
We  mean  not  to  say  that  missionaries  are  inspired ;  but  we  do  mean 
to  say,  that  the  Spirit  of  God  accompanies  their  labours.  lie  who 
gave  the  command,  "  Go  ye  into  all  the  world,  and  preach  the  gos- 


316  APPENDIX. 

pel  to  every  creature:"  gave  also  the  promise,  "And  lo,  I  am  with 
you  alway,  even  unto  the  end  of  the  world." 

But  this  has  been  a  digression  from  our  original  design,  though 
■we  hope  not  a  useless  one.  We  go  on  to  remark,  that  as  there  are 
special  promises  for  the  martyr,  so  are  there  for  the  faithful  mission- 
ary. And  as  there  was  a  time  when  the  disciples  of  Christ  were  eager 
to  wear  the  crown  of  martyrdom,  so  was  there  a  time  when  the  pre- 
tended soldiers  of  the  cross  were  eager  to  gain  the  reward  which  is 
promised  to  him  who  shall  leave  all  for  the  sake  of  Christ.  There 
was  a  time  when  the  inhabitants  of  Europe  rushed  with  one  accord, 
to  iight  in  what  they  deemed,  but  falsely,  the  cause  of  the  Saviour. 
So  great  was  the  enthusiasm,  that  in  that  army  there  mingled  men 
of  every  rank,  and  of  every  condition  ;  the  high  and  the  low.  There 
might  be  seen  the  crown  of  royalty,  and  the  coronet  of  nobility,  and 
the  crested  plume  of  knighthood,  towering  above  the  humbler  array 
of  the  surrounding  multitude ;  and  there,  too,  might  be  seen  the 
peaceful  banner  of  the  crossj  floating  above  those  who  were  soon  to 
imbrue  their  hands  in  the  blood  of  their  fellow-men.  That  was  an 
age  of  zeal ;  but  it  was  also  an  age  of  ignorance.  The  present  is  an 
age  of  knowledge :  would  it  were  also  an  age  of  more  fervent  zeal. 
The  true  soldiers  of  the  cross  are  now  going  forth  to  fight ;  but  they 
wrestle  not  against  flesh  and  blood.  And  they  have  buckled  on  their 
armour,  but  it  is  not  a  material  armour;  and  they  have  taken  their 
arms,  but  they  are  not  carnal  weapons. 

But  they  fight  against  principalities  and  powers,  against  the  rulers 
of  the  darkness  of  this  world,  against  spiritual  wickedness  in  high 
places.  And  they  have  taken  unto  them  the  whole  armour  of  God, 
even  the  shield  of  faith,  and  the  breastplate  of  righteousness,  and 
the  preparation  of  the  gospel  of  peace.  And  they  are  armed  with 
the  sword  of  the  Spirit,  even  the  word  of  God,  which  is  mighty 
through  God,  to  the  pulling  down  of  strong-holds.  The  faithful  mis- 
sionary is  the  true  soldier  of  the  cross.  It  is  he  that  hath  left  father, 
and  mother,  and  houses,  and  lands,  for  Christ's  sake  and  the  gospel; 
and  to  him  is  the  promise  of  a  hundred-fold  in  this  life,  and  in  the 
world  to  come,  life  everlasting. 

But  as  the  labours  and  the  sufferings  of  the  missionary  resemble 
those  of  Christ,  so  shall  his  reward  resemble  that  of  our  glorified 
Head.     For  what  is  the  reward  of  Christ  ?    Is  it  not  the  souls  which 


KEWAEDS    AND    PUNISHMENTS.  317 

he  has  ransomed?     In  the  prophecy  of  Isaiah,  God  is  represented  as 
thus  making  a  covenant  with  his  Son  — 

<'If  his  soul  shall  make  a  propitiatory  sacrifice, 

He  shall  see  a  seed  which  shall  prolong  their  days. 

And  the  gracious  purpose  of  Jehovah  shall  prosper  in  his  hands. 

Of  the  travail  of  his  soul,  he  shall  see  (the  fruit)  and  be  satislied. 

By  the  knowledge  of  him  shall  my  servant  justify  many  j 

For  the  punishment  of  their  iniquities  he  shall  bear. 

Therefore  will  I  distribute  to  him  the  many  for  his  portion. 

And  the  mighty  people  shall  he  share  for  his  spoil." 

Lowrn. 

This  was  the  joy  that  was  set  before  him,  for  which  he  endured 
the  cross,  despising  the  shame. 

And  what  is  the  reward  of  the  minister  and  the  missionary  ?  Is 
it  not  the  souls  whom  they  have  been  the  instruments  of  saving? 
"  For  what,"  says  Paul  to  the  Thessalonians,  "  for  what  is  our  hope, 
or  joy,  or  crown  of  rejoicing?  Are  not  even  ye  in  the  presence  of 
our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  at  his  coming?  For  ye  are  our  glory  and 
joy.  Thus  is  it  that  if  we  attain  unto  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  the 
souls  which  we  may  have  been  instrumental  in  saving  here,  will  in 
that  day  be  as  a  crown  of  glory  around  us ;  and  yet  along  with  our- 
selves, form  part  of  that  brighter  crown  which  shall  beam  around 
the  head  of  our  glorified  Redeemer :  as  in  our  solar  system,  the  satel- 
lites revolve  round  their  respective  planets,  and  yet  are  with  them 
borne  in  their  mightier  orbits  around  that  brighter  luminary  which 
is  the  centre  of  the  whole. 

There  is  such  a  thing  as  being  saved,  yet  so  as  by  fire ;  such  a 
thing  as  being  least  in  the  kingdom  of  heaven  :  and  even  this  is  a 
thought  of  highest  ecstacy  ;  but  there  is  a  thought  more  ecstatic  still. 
It  is  the  thought  of  an  abundant  entrance,  and  an  exceeding  great 
reward,  and  a  crown  of  glory  that  fadeth  not  away,  and  a  splendour 
like  the  shining  of  the  stars  in  the  firmament.  Yes,  to  emit  the 
faintest  ray  from  that  dazzling  crown,  which  shall  ever  encircle  the 
head  of  the  Saviour,  is  a  thought  far  too  glorious  for  human  concep- 
tion;  but  there  is  a  thought  more  glorious  still, —  to  blaze  forth, 
the  central  gem  of  one  of  those  brilliant  clusters,  —  to  add  to  the 
glory  of  the  Redeemer's  diadem,  and  yet  have  around  us  a  coronet 
of  our  own. 


318  APPENDIX. 

Hitherto  we  have  considered  it  as  a  privilege  to  labour,  and  to  suffer, 
for  the  sake  of  Christ;  we  come  now  to  consider  it  as  a  duty. 
Hitherto  our  attention  has  been  directed  to  the  glorious  reward  of 
those  who  shall  avail  themselves  of  their  privileges ;  we  come  now 
to  consider  the  condemnation  of  those  who  shall  neglect  them. 

We  doubt  not  but  there  are  some  who  would  give  a  willing  assent 
to  all  that  we  have  advanced;  but  who,  notwithstanding,  would  not 
be  actuated  by  these  remarks,  to  a  single  deed  of  Christian  philan- 
thropy. They  think  that  it  may  be  all  very  true,  that  a  crown  of 
glory  is  reserved  for  the  martyr  and  the  missionary  ;  and  that  a  dis- 
tinguished place  in  the  kingdom  of  heaven  will  be  given  to  those  who 
have  been  unwearied  in  their  zeal,  and  patient  in  their  suffering,  for 
Christ's  sake  and  the  gospel's ;  but  for  their  part,  they  have  no  such 
ambitious  views,  they  are  well  content  if  they  can  but  get  to  heaven 
at  all ;  they  like  to  steal  quietly  along  with  heaven  in  view,  and  not 
to  make  too  much  ado  about  religion.  They  think  it  right,  indeed, 
to  be  religious  ;  but  they  like  not  those  who  are  religious  over  much. 
They  do  well  in  saying  that  they  disapprove  of  ambition ;  we  know  not 
that  even  with  regard  to  heavenly  things,  this  desire  of  greatness  is 
ever  in  any  shape  countenanced  in  the  New  Testament.  But  it  is 
not  the  reward  itself  which  these  individuals  dislike,  it  is  the  suffer- 
ing, and  the  self-denial  which  lead  to  it.  And  too  often  is  such  rea- 
soning employed  as  an  excuse  for  treating  with  the  most  listless 
neglect,  all  that  has  a  reference  to  the  extension  of  the  kingdom  of 
our  Lord. 

But  there  is  one  circumstance  which  has  always  struck  us  most 
forcibly  in  reading  those  allegorical  representations  of  the  final 
retribution  which  are  contained  in  the  Bible  —  a  circumstance  which 
tells  most  fearfully  against  that  class  of  individuals  to  which  we 
have  alluded.  And  it  is,  that  while  a  greater  or  a  less  reward  fol- 
lows the  improvement  of  our  talents,  the  simple  neglect  of  these, 
subjects  us  to  a  greater  condemnation  than  if  we  had  never  enjoyed 
them.  While  those  servants  who  had  gained  by  the  talents  bestowed 
upon  them,  received  each  a  suitable  reward,  that  servant  who  had 
gained  nothing,  not  only  received  no  reward,  but  was  ordered  to  be 
cast  into  outer  darkness,  where  shall  be  weeping  and  gnashing  of 
teeth.  And  in  that  sublime  description  of  our  Lord's,  where  the 
final  judgment  is  brought  so  vividly  before  us,  the  condemned  are 


REWARDS    AND    PUNISHMENTS.  819 

not  accused  of  positive  crime,  but  of  conduct  altogether  of  a  nega- 
tive nature.  And  when  the  Judge  pronounces  the  fearful  sentence, 
"  Depart  from  nie,  ye  cursed,  into  everlasting  fire ;"  he  does  not  add 
as  the  cause  of  their  condemnation,  "  Because  ye  imprisoned  me." 
It  is  "  because  I  was  an  hungered,  and  ye  gave  me  no  meat.  I  was 
thirsty,  and  ye  gave  me  no  drink.  I  was  a  stranger,  and  ye  took 
me  not  in;  naked,  and  ye  clothed  me  not;  sick  and  in  prison, 
and  ye  visited  me  not.''  Not  only  then  should  we  consider  as  a 
matter  of  high  and  distinguished  privilege,  that  we  have  been  en- 
dowed with  talents,  but  also  as  a  thing  of  deep  and  fearful  respon- 
sibility. 

There  are  various  talents  which  have  been  entrusted  to  our  keep- 
ing. Some  of  us  may  have  received  more,  and  others  less ;  but  we 
shall  have  all  to  render  an  account  according  to  that  we  have,  and 
not  according  to  that  which  we  have  not.  There  is  one  talent  which 
we  have  all  of  us  received,  and  that,  too,  a  talent  of  no  common 
value ;  even  that  Book  which  maketh  wise  unto  salvation.  This 
wisdom  is  within  the  reach  of  every  one  of  us ;  and  this  wisdom  it 
is  our  duty  to  send  to  those  who  have  it  not.  Or  it  may  be,  that,  in 
that  day  there  may  be  some  who  have  been  less  highly  favoured  than 
ourselves;  but  who  have  more  diligently  availed  themselves  of  the 
privileges  they  enjoyed  ;  who  shall  bring  against  us  the  accusation  ; 
"  We  were  hungering  and  thirsting  after  righteousness  ;  and  ye  sup- 
plied not  our  wants.'' 

It  is  in  vain  for  any  one  of  us  to  say,  that  we  can  do  nothing  in 
the  cause  of  evangelizing  the  heathen.  We  may  be  able  to  give  but 
little  to  support  the  external  mechanism  ;  but  there  is  something 
more  required  in  this  mighty  work  than  the  mere  outward  appara- 
tus: even  that  quickening  principle,  which  of  old  breathed  life  into 
the  dry  bones  of  the  prophet's  vision  ;  and  which  even  now,  is  ex- 
erted in  bidding  those  live  "who  are  dead  in  trespasses  and  sin." 
The  Holy  Ghost  is  the  gift  of  prayer.  It  may  be,  that  we  can  give 
but  little  to  the  support  of  the  outward  means ;  but  we  can  all  pray 
for  that  life-giving  principle,  without  which,  these  means  will  be 
employed  in  vain.  It  may  be,  that  we  cannot  ourselves  go  forth  to 
reap ;  but  we  can,  at  least,  "  pray  the  Lord  of  the  harvest  to  send 
forth  labourers  into  his  harvest."  But  there  are  some  of  us  who 
can  do  more ;  to  whom  there  has  been  entrusted  the  talent  of  this 


820  APPENDIX. 

world's  wealth.  This  is  an  element,  my  friends,  which  is  absolutely 
necessary  to  the  carrying  on  of  the  cause  of  Christ  on  earth.  It  is 
a  talent  which  we  have  received  from  God ;  and  yet  how  little  of  it 
is  employed  in  his  service.  Can  it  be,  that  so  many  millions  are 
annually  embarked  in  the  uncertain  speculations  of  this  world's 
merchandise;  and  that  a  few  thousands  are  all  that 'are  employed 
in  the  service  of  Him  who  is  the  rightful  owner  of  all  that  we  pos- 
sess? Can  it  be,  that  so  many  are  willing  to  lend  on  the  treacher- 
ous security  of  this  world's  contracts ;  and  that  there  are  found  so 
few  who  are  willing  to  lend  on  the  security  of  His  word  who  can- 
not lie,  and  who  hath  promised  a  hundred-fold  in  this  life,  and  ia 
the  world  to  come  life  everlasting  ? 

But  there  are  some  of  us  who  have  received  talents  of  a  higher 
order  still ;  talents  which  might  enable  us  to  engage  personally  in 
the  work  of  missions ;  even  those  mental  endowments,  which,  with 
the  teaching  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  might  qualify  us  for  preaching  to 
the  heathen,  the  unsearchable  riches  of  Christ. 

It  is  altogether  vain  to  assert,  as  some  do,  that  great  mental  powers 
cannot  be  profitably  employed  in  preaching  to  the  heathen.  It  is 
true,  there  may  be  some  exceptions ;  but  in  the  general,  we  know  no 
ofiice  in  the  church  of  God  where  the  very  highest  mental  attain- 
ments can  be  more  beneficially  employed,  than  in  the  office,  all  de- 
spised as  it  is,  of  the  Christian  missionary. 

Mental  endowments  are  gifts,  which  more  than  any  other,  per- 
haps, have  been  alienated  from  the  service  of  Him  that  gave  them. 
And  it  will  not  be  the  greatest  condemnation  of  by  far  the  greater 
part  of  those  who  have  received  them,  — that  they  have  wrapt  them 
in  a  napkin  or  buried  them  in  the  ground.  Not  only  have  they  been 
withdrawn  from  the  service  of  God  ;  but  far  too  frequently  have  they 
been  employed  in  the  service  of  his  enemies. 

This  is  the  kind  of  assistance  which  is  most  wanted  at  present  in 
the  missionary  cause.  It  is  not  work  that  is  wanting;  it  is  not 
wealth  to  carry  on  the  work ;  it  is  labourers. 

It  was  not  the  hope  of  rendering  any  considerable  pecuniary 
assistance  to  missions  which  induced  some  of  our  number  to  attempt 
the  formation  of  this  society ;  it  was  the  desire  of  cultivaing  a  mis- 
sionary spirit  among  ourselves.  We  remembered,  that  from  the 
Halls  of  Cambridge,  there  had  gone  forth  the  zealous  and  devoted 


REWARDS    AND    PUNISHMENTS.  821 

Martyn  ;  and  that  a  sister  University  had  sent  forth  a  Brown  and  a 
Buchanan;  and  we  were  not  without  the  hope,  that  even  from  this 
remote  and  hitherto  lukewarm  corner  of  our  land,  there  mi^^ht  be 
found  some  to  imitate  their  honourable,  though  despised,  example. 

This  may  serve  to  explain  to  you  why  we  have  already  laid  out 
so  great  a  portion  of  our  funds  in  procuring  the  lives  and  the  writ- 
ings of  some  of  the  most  distinguished  of  our  missionaries.  And 
we  are  sure,  that  there  are  few  who  can  peruse  the  diary  of  a 
Brainerd,  or  a  Martyn,  without  being  animated  with  something  of 
that  devoted  spirit  which  animated  these  illustrious  servants  of  our 
God. 

But  we  fear,  lest  it  may  be  thought  by  some,  that  these  remarks 
savour  too  much  of  selfishness ;  that  we  have  held  up  as  an  incite- 
ment to  exertion,  the  hope  of  glory,  and  the  fear  of  condemnation. 

Well  do  we  know,  that  if  the  love  of  Christ  constrain  us  not  to 
live  not  unto  ourselves,  but  to  him  that  died  for  us,  then  all  other 
inducements  will  be  utterly  powerless.  But  in  this  age  of  antino- 
mian  delusion,  when  religion  has,  among  one  class  of  our  com- 
munity, been  transformed  into  a  thing  of  definitions  and  cold  specu- 
lation ;  and,  when,  among  another,  it  has  dwindled  into  a  thing  of 
mere  feeling  and  poetic  sentiment ;  we  deem  it  right  to  bring  for- 
ward those  passages  of  the  Bible  which  bear  most  directly  upon  our 
conduct. 

For  how  often  in  these  days  of  cold  and  heartless  profession,  do 
we  meet  with  those  who  have  the  most  perfect  knowledge  of  all  that 
is  orthodox,  and  all  that  is  Calvinistic ;  who  can  argue  most  ingeni- 
ously about  all  the  dark  and  doubtful  points  of  theology ;  whose 
heads  have  been  stufi'ed  with  the  dogmas  and  the  disputations  of  a 
speculative  divinity ;  but  whose  hearts  have  never  been  reached  by 
the  melting  declarations  of  the  gospel. 

These  are  willing  to  talk  and  debate  about  religion  ;  and  they  are 
willing,  perhaps,  to  speculate  about  the  possibility  or  impossibility 
of  their  salvation  to  whom  the  glad  tidings  of  the  gospel  never  came. 
But  if,  on  the  ground  of  the  uncertainty  of  the  question,  you  urge 
home  upon  them,  the  duty  of  sending  instruction  to  the  heathen ; 
and  if  you  but  mention  Bible  or  Missionary  Societies,  immediately 
are  they  ready  to  silence  your  every  argument  by  their  usual  caut 
charges  of  fanaticism  and  enthusiasm. 


322  APPENDIX. 

How  often,  on  the  other  hand,  do  we  meet  with  those  whose  religion 
is  not  indeed  so  cold,  but  altogether  as  lifeless ;  with  those  who  are 
loud  in  the  praise  of  benevolence,  and  who  are  ever  saying  to  the 
poor,  Be  ye  warmed,  and  be  ye  fed ;  whose  tenderest  emotions  are 
excited  by  the  recital  of  some  tale  of  imaginary  woe  ;  but  who  would 
think  the  lofty  dreams  of  their  sentimentalism  degraded  by  being 
brought  in  contact  with  what  they  reckon  the  grossness  of  real  life. 
And  how  lamentable  is  it  to  think,  that,  in  this  class  of  individuals, 
we  can  sometimes  meet  with  those  who  can  talk,  and  who  can  write, 
the  most  pathetically  about  the  misery  and  the  degradation  of  the 
heathen  ;  and  who  can  yet  demonstrate  by  their  own  deeds,  that  the 
religion  of  the  Bible  has  even  less  influence  upon  themselves  than 
the  mock  morality  of  the  Koran  on  the  followers  of  Mahomet,  or  the 
fables  of  the  Shaster  on  the  deluded  votary  of  Brahma. 

This  admirable  essay,  with  another,  which  will  afterwards  come 
in,  illustrates  more  powerfully  than  any  description  of  mine,  the 
character  and  talents  of  the  writer.  His  knowledge  of  the  Scrip- 
tures, and  the  ease  with  which  he  reasons  upon  them,  are  extrar 
ordinary  in  a  boy  of  his  years.  Human  teaching  could  not  have 
produced  such  excellence  as  is  here  displayed.  The  subject  is  a 
diflBcult,  and,  in  some  respects,  an  original  one ;  yet  he  discusses 
it  like  a  person  familiar  with  it,  and  who  had  devoted  to  it,  the 
leisure  and  the  application  of  years. 

It  affords  the  most  decisive  proof  that  his  zeal  was  not  the  sud- 
den excitement  of  passion,  or  that  temporary  and  often  violent 
heat,  which  is  put  forth  by  a  young  convert :  which  is  sometimes 
in  the  reverse  ratio  of  the  light  which  is  possessed ;  and,  there- 
fore, as  ephemeral  in  its  duration  as  it  is  unproductive  of  solid 
benefit  to  the  individual  himself  and  to  others.  It  is  good  to  be 
zealously  affected  in  a  good  thing.  But  it  is  always  desirable  that 
zeal  should  be  according  to  knowledge ;  and  that  the  flame  should 
be  clear  as  well  as  ardent.  Such  was  the  case  of  my  youno- 
friend.  His  warmth  arose  from  those  doctrines  which  he  so  well 
understood,  and  the  influence  of  which  must  ever  be  powerful  on 
those  who  really  believe  them.     The  love -of  Christ  to  himself, 


REWARDS    AND    PUNISHMENTS.  323 

brought  along  with  it,  the  most  devoted  gratitude  in  return.  And 
perceiving  that  the  manifestations  of  Christ's  love,  in  dcvntin(T 
himself  for  the  salvation  of  the  world,  are  recorded,  not  only  to 
be  the  foundation  of  our  faith  towards  God,  but  to  be  the  example 
and  the  excitement  of  the  same  principle  in  us,  he  felt  called 
upon  to  give  his  talents  and  his  life  to  the  same  cause.  Is  this 
fanaticism  ?  Then  was  it  fanaticism  which  led  the  Son  of  God 
to  give  his  life  a  ransom  for  many.  It  was  fanaticism  which  sent 
the  apostles  round  the  world  on  a  mission  of  benevolence.  It  was 
fanaticism  which  influenced  the  confessors  and  martyrs  of  primi- 
tive times  to  sacrifice  all  things  for  their  Master's  sake,  and  ''  for 
the  elect's  sake,  that  they  might  obtain  the  salvation  which  is  in 
Christ  Jesus  with  eternal  glory." 

It  is  far  easier  on  Christian  principles  to  defend  the  utmost 
degree  of  self-devotion  in  the  work  of  disseminating  th^  gospel, 
than  it  is  to  defend  the  sincerity  of  men  who  call  themselres 
Christians,  and  yet  remain  cold,  selfish,  and  worldly.  For  the 
highest  ardour  —  for  what  may  be  even  called  the  extravagance 
of  zeal,  it  is  easy  to  find  not  only  an  apology,  but  a  justification 
in  the  principles  and  hopes  of  the  gospel.  But  it  is  passing 
strange,  that  men  should  conceive  themselves  to  be  Christians, 
while  they  "  live  to  themselves,"  and  are  equally  regardless  of 
what  is  due  to  consistency,  to  the  honour  of  Christ,  and  to  the 
claims  of  a  perishing  world.  It  is  not  necessary  that  every 
Christian  should  become  a  missionary  to  the  heathen,  but  it  is 
necessary  that  every  Christian  should  consider  himself  the  Lord's, 
and  that  he  is  as  much  bound  to  propagate  the  faith  of  Christ,  as 
were  the  primitive  believers.  No  obligation  lay  on  them  which  does 
not  devolve  on  us;  and  it  is  only  in  as  far  as  we  adopt  their 
maxims  and  imbibe  their  spirit,  that  we  can  expect  at  last  to  share 
their  reward. 

There  is  reason  to  fear  that  the  New  Testament  doctrine  of 
future  rewards  and  punishments  is  very  imperfectly  understood 
by  many  Christians.     They  use  the  terms,  heaveU;  eternal  life. 


324  APPENDIX. 

the  crown  of  glory,  and  other  corresponding  expressions,  in  a 
vague  and  indefinite  manner.  Their  hopes  and  expectations  seera 
to  be  exceedingly  low,  and  to  produce  a  proportionately  feeble 
influence  on  their  minds  and  conduct.  Christianity  is  not  suffi- 
ciently their  life ;  and,  hence,  they  find  it  necessary  to  repair  too 
much  to  other  sources  of  enjoyment. 

With  them,  the  escape  from  future  punishment,  and  the  pos- 
session of  heaven,  considered  as  a  state  of  entire  freedom  from 
suifering,  is  the  ne  plus  ultra  of  hope.  The  idea  of  a  scale  of 
reward  scarcely  enters  into  their  mind,  much  less  that  this  scale 
will  be  regulated  by  the  degree  in  which  the  character  is  in  this 
world  conformed  to  that  of  Christ.  Hence  the  satisfaction  with 
themselves  which  is  felt  even  when  much  that  is  evil  exists. 
Hence  the  indifference  to  eminent  degrees  of  labour,  self-denial, 
and  holjness,  which  so  generally  prevails.  And,  hence  the  little 
attention  which  is  paid  to  some  of  the  most  interesting  views  of 
future  glory  which  the  Scriptures  present. 

The  doctrine  of  grace  is  thus  unconsciously  perverted  by  many. 
They  seem  to  think  that  doctrine  not  only  at  variance  with  human 
merit,  but  with  degrees  of  glory  proportioned  to  the  degrees  of 
Christian  excellence.  They  regard  the  arrangements  of  eternity 
as  so  arbitrary  that  they  have  little  or  no  connection  with  the 
transactions  of  time.  They  imagine  that  the  thief  on  the  cross 
will  not  only  be  saved,  but  may  shine  with  as  bright  a  lustre  as 
the  apostle  of  the  Gentiles.  Is  not  this  forgetting  that  the  for- 
giveness of  the  kingdom  of  heaven  is  a  very  different  thing  from 
the  rewards  of  that  kingdom  ?  The  former  having  a  reference  to 
the  evil  which  is  common  to  all,  necessarily  places  all  in  the  same 
state ;  the  latter  having  respect  to  what  is  good,  or  to  positive 
conformity  to  the  will  of  God,  must  be  proportioned  to  the  degree 
in  which  it  exists. 

In  this  constitution  there  is  not  only  a  recognition  of  the  prin- 
ciple of  grace,  but  a  very  high  display  of  it.  To  the  merit  of  the 
atonement,  and  to  the  influences  of  the  Divine  Spirit,  we  are  in- 


KEWARDS    AND    PUNISHMENTS.  825 

debted  for  all  our  positive  goodness,  and  for  the  acceptance 
of  all  our  services.  To  his  own  gift,  therefore,  we  arc  pre- 
viously indebted  for  all  our  hopes  of  distinction  in  his  hea- 
venly kingdom,  and  to  encourage  the  highest  possible  cultivation 
01  the  benefits  which  he  bestows,  and  of  the  opportunities  of  use- 
fulness which  he  presents,  he  graciously  engages  to  reward  every 
attempt  to  glorify  his  name.  The  idea  of  merit  is  for  ever  ex- 
cluded by  the  infinite  disproportion  which  obtains  between  the 
service  and  the  reward.  We  are  so  treated  as  to  be  left  through 
eternity  with  a  perpetually  increasing  and  accumulating  debt,  to 
the  infinite  grace  and  love  of  God. 

It  is  impossible  to  entertain  this  idea  of  future  glory,  without 
experiencing  its  elevating  and  stimulating  effects.  It  is  not  neces- 
sary to  restrict  it  to  missionary  labours ;  nor  was  this  the  object 
of  the  writer,  in  this  admirable  essay.  It  applies  to  all  the 
branches  of  Christianity;  and  to  all  the  engagements  of  Christian 
enterprise.  In  whatever  way  an  individual  may  most  fully  live 
to  the  Lord,  most  entirely  exercise  the  self-denial  which  the  gos- 
pel inculcates,  and  most  clearly  evince  the  hallowed  nature  of  his 
principles,  he  may  receive  the  promised  boon.  Urquhart  believed 
that  a  missionary  life  was  the  course  in  which  he  might  most 
satisfactorily  and  honourably  discharge  his  obligations  to  the 
Saviour,  and  deserve  his  approbation.  Believing  this,  he  devoted 
himself  to  it,  and  only  parted  with  his  determination  thus  to 
glorify  his  Redeemer,  with  life  itself.  With  him  these  views 
were  not  a  beautiful  speculation,  but  living  and  efiicient  princi- 
ples. They  influenced  his  studies,  his  dispositions,  his  pursuits. 
They  raised  him  above  the  low  ambition,  and  the  petty  warfare 
of  the  earth.  They  fixed  his  hopes  on  the  enjoyments  of  a  purer 
region;  and  stimulated  his  exertions  by  the  prospect  of  a  crown 
of  incorruptible  glory. 


28 


326  APPENDIX, 


E. 


ESSAY  ON  THE  DISTINCTION  BETWEEN  PRODUCTIVE  AND  UN- 
PRODUCTIVE LABOUR. 

That  there  is  some  distinction  between  what  Dr.  Smith  calls  pro- 
ductive, and  what  he  terms  unproductive  labour,  we  think  every  one 
must  allow;  and  that  it  consists  in  this,  that  the  former  produces 
something  which  the  latter  does  not  produce,  it  must,  we  think,  be 
£is  readily  admitted.  The  question  comes  to  be,  "  What  is  the  some- 
thing?" If  all  that  Dr.  Smith  means  by  this  distinction  be,  that 
the  one  produces  something  which  is  tangible,  while  the  produce  of 
the  other  is  something  too  ethereal  and  too  evanescent  to  be  laid 
hold  of,  we  perfectly  agree  with  him.  We  think  his  distinction  a 
very  just,  but  at  the  same  time  a  very  useless  one ;  and,  in  our 
opinion,  he  might  as  well  have  amused  us  by  a  further  subdivision 
of  labour,  according  as  its  produce  was  hard  or  soft,  liquid  or  solid. 
But  this  is  not  Dr.  Smith's  meaning;  and,  on  appealing  to  his  defi- 
nition we  find,  that  he  founds  this  distinction  on  the  supposition, 
that  "the  one  sort  of  labour  adds  to  the  value  of  the  subject  on 
which  it  is  bestowed ;  and  that  the  other  has  no  such  effect ;  that 
the  one  produces  a  value,  the  other  does  not."  The  distinction  seems 
now  to  turn  on  the  meaning  of  the  word  value ;  and,  on  referring  to 
a  former  definition  to  explain  the  present  one,  we  do  not  find  much 
light  thrown  on  the  subject.  We  are  merely  told  of  a  value  in  use, 
and  a  value  in  exchange.  If  we  take  the  latter  of  these,  and  apply 
it  to  the  subject  under  consideration,  we  shall  find  that  the  one  kind 
of  labour  produces  a  value  just  as  much  as  the  other;  for  the  mu- 
sician receives  his  subsistence  in  return  for  his  labour  in  playing 
tunes;  just  as  much  as  the  tailor  does,  in  return  for  his  labour,  in 
making  clothes.  But  it  may  be  said,  that  Dr.  Smith  terms  a  certain 
kind  of  labour  unproductive  because  it  produces  no  value  in  use. 
But  this  cannot  have  been  the  cause  of  the  distinction  ;  for,  while 
on  the  one  hand  this  objection  does  not  apply  to  all  the  kinds  of 
labour  which  he  has  termed  unproductive,  it,  on  the  other  hand, 
does  apply  to  some  of  those  which  he  has  denominated  productive. 


ESSAY    ON    LABOUR.  327 

The  terms  wealth  and  value  seem  to  us  to  be  very  indefinite ;  and 
to  depend  very  much  on  the  circumstances  and  the  taste  of  the  in- 
dividual in  reference  to  whom  they  are  mentioned.  The  clothing 
which  is  so  valuable  to  the  inhabitant  of  Europe,  would  add  nothing 
to  the  comfort  of  the  naked  inhabitant  of  New  Zealand,  and  would 
consequently  be  of  littfe  value  to  him.  And  the  antique  vase  which 
would  be  so  highly  valued  by  the  curious  antiquarian,  may  be 
thoughtlessly  destroyed  by  the  less  refined  peasant  who  digs  it  up. 

Thirty  or  forty  years  ago,  a  stock  of  shoe-buckles  would  have 
been  an  addition  to  the  real  wealth  of  this  country ;  at  present,  they 
would  be  valuable  only  for  the  material  which  composes  them  ;  and 
those  who  should  now  be  employed  in  working  them  up,  instead  of 
adding,  would,  in  fact,  detract  from  the  value  of  the  subject  on  which 
their  labour  was  bestowed.  We  have  therefore  the  definition  of  value 
or  wealth  confined  between  two  limits,  and  we  shall  come  to  a  suffi- 
ciently correct,  if  not  a  sufficiently  comprehensive  notion  of  what 
that  is  which  constitutes  wealth  or  value,  if  we  can  but  discover 
what  that  is  which  existed  in  these  shoe-buckles  thirty  or  forty  years 
ago,  and  which  does  not  exist  at  present.  They  are  as  substantially 
material  now  as  they  were  before.  Were  they  manufactured,  there 
would  be  as  much  labour  wrought  up  in  them  as  ever,  and  the  only 
change  that  we  know  of,  that  has  taken  place  with  regard  to  them 
is,  that  they  were  in  fashion  then,  and  they  are  so  no  longer ;  they 
cannot  now  minister  to  the  enjoyment  of  the  community.  So  that 
we  must  conclude,  that  these  commodities,  or  any  other  commodi- 
ties whatever,  which  are  the  produce  of  labour,  form  a  part  of  the 
wealth  of  a  country,  just  because  they  minister,  in  some  way  or  other, 
to  the  convenience  or  enjoyment  of  its  inhabitants;  and  because, 
since  they  are  the  produce  of  the  labour  of  man,  they  must  have  an 
exchangeable  value,  if  there  be  any  demand  for  them. 

Now  it  seems  to  us  remarkably  unfair,  that  of  two  men,  whose 
labour  has  precisely  the  same  efi"ect  on  the  wealth  of  the  society, 
the  one  should  be  denominated  a  productive,  and  the  other  an  un- 
productive labourer,  merely  because  the  labour  of  the  former  is 
realized  in  some  material  commodity,  while  that  of  the  lattar  is  not; 
that,  of  two  men,  for  example,  the  object  of  both  of  whom  it  is 
to  minister  to  the  enjoyment  of  society,  by  furnishing  them  with 
music  he  who  makes  a  musical  instrument  should  be  called  a  pro- 


328  APPENDIX. 

ductive  labourer,  while  he  who  performs  upon  that  instrument,  and 
but  for  whom  it  could  have  no  value  whatever,  is  stigmatized  with 
the  epithet  of  unproductive. 

By  Dr.  Smith  it  is  asserted,  that  the  former  of  these  individuals 
produces  a  value,  while  the  other  does  not.  Now,  if  in  this  respect 
there  be  any  difference  at  all  between  then*r  it  seems  to  us  to  be, 
that  the  one  needs  materials  to  work  upon,  while  the  other  does  not ; 
that  the  one  merely  adds  to  the  value  of  what  was  valuable  before, 
while  the  other  creates  a  value  altogether;  that  the  maker  of  the 
instrument  merely  increases  by  his  labour  the  value  of  brass  and 
wood,  and  other  exchangeable  commodities,  while  the  performer  on 
the  instrument  gives  a  value  to  the  unbought  air  of  Heaven  ;  and  oa 
this  account,  were  we  to  make  any  distinction,  should  we  deem  the 
labour  of  the  latter  to  be  much  more  productive  than  that  of  the 
former.  , 

But  it  may  be  said  that  this  is  a  mere  cavilling  about  words.  It 
must  be  remembered,  however,  that  words  are  the  symbols  of  ideas, 
and  that  the  sign  necessarily  affects  the  thing  signified.  The  very 
distinction  against  which  we  have  been  arguing,  seems  to  have  con- 
fused the  views  of  our  great  author  through  the  whole  of  his  chapter 
on  labour.  After  having  once  associated,  with  a  certain  kind  of 
labour,  the  idea  of  unproductiveness,  he  seems  ever  after  to  have 
contemplated  it  with  an  evil  eye,  and  to  have  loaded  it  with  the  bur- 
den not  only  of  its  own  faults,  but  also  of  those  which  did  not  be- 
long to  it. 

Through  the  whole  chapter  there  seems  to  run  a  confused  notion 
of  a  subsisting  connection  between  expenditure  and  the  support  of 
unproductive  labour,  and  a  connection,  on  the  other  hand,  between 
the  employment  of  productive  labour  and  the  accumulation  of  stock. 
And  thus  it  is  that  Dr.  Smith  attributes  to  the  supporting  of  unpro- 
ductive labour  all  those  evils  which  are  the  result  of  prodigality  and 
extravagance. 

It  is  some  indistinct  idea  of  a  connection  between  the  employment 
of  productive  labourers  and  the  accumulation  of  capital  which  Dr. 
Smith  entertains,  where  he  tells  us,  that  "  a  man  grows  rich  by  em- 
ploying a  multitude  of  manufacturers,  while  every  body  knows  that 
a  man  may  waste  his  whole  fortune  in  the  purchase  of  manufactured 


ESSAY    ON    LABOUR.  329 

commodities  ;  and  thus,  far  from  growing  rich,  may  ruin  himself, — 
just  by  employing  a  multitude  of  manufacturers." 

The  same  confused  ideas  seem  to  have  clouded  our  author's  un- 
derstanding, when  he  wrote  the  following  sentences: — 

"  Whatever  part  of  his  stock  a  man  employs  as  a  capital,  ho 
always  expects  it  to  be  replaced  to  him  with  profit.  He  employs  it, 
therefore,  in  maintaining  productive  hands  only.  Whenever  he  em- 
ploys any  part  of  it  in  maintaining  unproductive  hands  of  any  kind, 
that  part  is  from  that  moment  withdrawn  from  his  capital,  and 
placed  in  his  stock  received  for  immediate  consumption.'' 

If  a  person  worth  lOOOZ.  can  employ  it  in  two  ways,  he  can  either 
on  the  one  hand,  employ  it  as  a  capital,  either  directly,  or  through 
the  medium  of  the  bank ;  or,  on  the  other  hand,  he  can  use  it  as  a 
stock  reserved  for  immediate  consumption.  In  either  of  these  ways 
I  can  employ  it  in  supporting  indiiferently  either  productive  or  un- 
productive hands ;  and  it  does  not  appear  that  my  success  or  my 
failure  will  be  at  all  necessarily  influenced  by  this  circumstance.  If 
I  use  it  as  a  capital  I  may  choose  to  embark  it  in  some  manufactur- 
ing or  mercantile  speculation,  and  thus  employ  productive  labourers  ; 
or  I  may  become  the  manager  of  a  theatre,  and  thus  take  into  my 
service  a  number  of  unproductive  hands.  And  this  last  scheme 
may  be  just  as  profitable,  or  even  more  so  than  the  other. 

On  the  other  hand,  I  may  use  the  whole  of  my  fortune,  or  too 
great  a  part  of  it,  as  a  stock  reserved  for  immediate  consumption ; 
and,  if  I  do  so,  I  shall  most  certainly  go  to  ruin,  whether  I  spend  it 
in  the  employment  of  productive  or  unproductive  hands.  In  such  a 
case  it  will  not  be  the  direction,  but  the  amount  of  my  expenditure, 
that  will  bring  me  to  beggary. 

But  it  may  go  far  to  demonstrate  the  absurdity  of  upholding  the 
distinction  between  productive  and  unproductive  labour,  if  we  can 
show  that  one  of  those  whom  Dr.  Smith  most  unequivocally  sets 
down  among  his  unproductive  labourers,  can  be  transferred  without 
any  change  in  his  occupation  from  the  service  of  the  spendthrift  to 
that  of  the  capitalist ;  for  we  shall  thus  prove,  first,  that  he  has  be- 
come a  productive  labourer,  as  Dr.  Smith  tells  us,  that  "  that  part 
of  the  annual  produce  of  the  land  and  labour  of  any  country  which 
replaces  a  capital,  never  is  immediately  employed  to  maintain  any 

,  28* 


330  APPENDIX. 

but  productive  hands."  It  pays  the  wages,  he  says,  of  productive 
labour  only. 

Now,  let  us  suppose  that  a  musical  amateur  has  so  impoverished 
himself  by  maintaining  a  full  band  of  performers  for  his  own  enter- 
tainment, that  he  finds  himself  almost  ruined  by  his  extravagance  ; 
but  that  rather  than  give  up  this  his  favourite  amusement,  he  re- 
solves, with  the  wreck  of  his  fortune,  to  set  up  an  opera,  and  offers 
to  retain  in  his  professional  capacity  still,  those  performers  who  had 
hitherto  ministered  to  his  private  enjoyment.  And,  we  may  sup- 
pose, still  further  that  they  accept  of  his  terms,  and  that  matters  go 
on  so  well,  that  he  recruits  his  fortune  by  the  profits  of  this  specu- 
lation. There  does  not  seem  any  thing  very  improbable  in  all  this, 
—  the  difl&culty  is  to  reconcile  it  with  Dr.  Smith's  chapter. 

These  men  are  now  supported  by  capital,  and  therefore  are  pro- 
ductive labourers ;  but  they  are  musicians,  and  therefore  are  unpro- 
ductive labourers.  Again ;  they  ruined  their  employer,  and  there- 
fore a  man  may  grow  poor  by  employing  unproductive  labourers, 
but  they  have  also  again  enriched  their  employer ;  and  therefore  a 
man  may  accumulate  capital  by  employing  unproductive  labourers. 

There  does  not  seem  then  to  be  any  real  distinction  between  pro- 
ductive and  unproductive  labour;  and  even  supposing  that  there  is, 
there  seems  to  be  no  good  reason  for  Dr.  Smith's  idea  of  a  necessary 
connection  between  the  employment  of  unproductive  labour  and 
expenditure,  or  between  that  of  productive  labour  and  the  accumu- 
lation of  stock. 

Dr.  Smith  seems  to  have  gone  on  with  the  popular  idea,  that 
wealth  consists  only  in  material  commodities,  without  much  consid- 
eration ;  and  the  wonder  is,  not  that  in  one  or  two  instances  his 
acute  understanding  has  been  misled,  but  that  in  by  far  the  greater 
number  he  has  so  successfully  succeeded  in  clearing  away  the  mists 
of  popular  prejudice  and  error. 

Even  with  regard  to  the  definition  of  wealth,  it  seems  to  have  been 
our  author's  own  opinion,  had  he  kept  by  it,  that  it  was  not  confined 
to  material  objects.  Had  Dr.  Smith  but  remembered  his  own  aphor- 
ism, that  "  every  man  is  rich  or  poor  according  to  the  degree  in 
which  he  can  afford  to  enjoy  the  necessaries,  conveniences,  and 
amusements  of  life  j"  and  had  he,  by  his  usual  train  of  reasoning, 


WRITTEN    LANGUAGE.  331 

generalized  this  proposition,  by  applying  to  the  whole  community 
what  may  be  said  of  every  one  of  its  members,  we  should  in  all  pro- 
bability never  have  heard  of  productive  or  unproductive  labour. 


F. 

ON  WRITTEN  LANGUAGE. 


The  acknowledged  priority  of  spoken  to  written  language,  appears 
to  us  a  very  decisive  argument  for  the  divine  origin  of  the  latter. 

Among  those  who  hold  that  language  is  a  mere  human  invention, 
there  have  been  two  opinions,  some  maintaining  that  substantives, 
or  the  names  of  external  objects  would  be  the  words  first  invented, 
and  others  holding  that  verbs  or  words  expressive  of  the  mutual 
relations  of  objects,  must  have  existed  anterior  to  these,  as  an  indi- 
vidual would  not  think  of  naming  an  object,  until  he  had  been  in 
some  way  or  other  affected  by  its  properties.  On  either  of  these 
hypotheses,  it  seems  to  us  very  obvious,  that  it  would  occur  much 
more  readily  to  the  mind  of  a  savage  to  represent  his  ideas  by  forms 
than  by  sounds.  If  he  wished  to  particularize  any  object  that  was 
near,  he  would  point  to  it ;  and  if  he  wished  to  express  the  relation 
between  any  two  objects,  he  would,  in  all  probability,  point  first  to 
the  one,  and  then  to  the  other ;  or,  if  the  objects  were  movable,  he 
might  express  the  same  idea  by  bringing  them  into  actual  contact. 

Were  these  objects  removed  from  his  view,  so  that  he  could  no 
longer  express  his  idea  by  pointing  to  them,  the  most  natural  re- 
source that  could  occur  to  him,  would  be  to  produce,  if  possible,  a 
resemblance  to  the  objects,  and  now  to  point  to  these,  as  he  had 
formerly  done  to  the  objects  themselves. 

As  there  are  comparatively  few  objects  that  utter  sound  ;  and  as 
the  sounds  cannot  be  distinctly  imitated  by  human  voice ;  and,  as  on 
the  other  hand,  all  external  objects  have  a  form  which  can  in  gene- 
ral be  easily  represented,  it  would  probably  occur  to  him,  that  to 
delineate  the  absent  objects  would  be  the  best  method  of  represent- 
ing them.    If  he  wished  to  express  some  relation  existing  between 


332  APPENDIX. 

two  objects,  he  would  express  tlie  idea  as  before,  by  representing 
the  symbols  of  two  objects  in  a  state  of  contact. 

Thus,  had  man  been  the  inventor  of  language,  we  should  have  ex- 
pected that  at  first  men  would  have  expressed  their  ideas  by  written 
symbols  accompanied  by  gestures,  and  now  and  then  perhaps  by  the 
utterance  of  such  articulate  sounds,  as  evidently  resembled  the  idea 
they  intended  to  express.  But  quite  the  reverse  of  this  is  admitted 
by  those  who  maintain  that  language  is  of  human  origin,  and  while 
they  do  not  deny  that  a  slight  degree  of  civilization  is  necessary  be- 
fore men  begin  to  express  their  ideas  by  symbols,  which  bear  some 
resemblance  to  the  objects  they  are  intended  to  represent,  these 
philologists  are  guilty  of  very  gross  inconsistency  in  attributing  to 
the  most  barbarous  savages,  a  discovery  of  a  much  higher  order, 
even  the  discovery  of  spoken  language,  where  ideas  are  represented 
by  sounds  almost  entirely  arbitrary. 

On  this  subject,  as  on  most  others,  men  of  different  parties  seem 
to  have  run  into  opposite  extremes.  Some  of  the  advocates  of  reve- 
lation, thinking  they  perceived  it  clearly  declared  there,  that  lan- 
guage is  of  divine  origin,  jealous  of  the  least  infringement  on  the 
authority  of  the  sacred  volume,  have  attempted  to  prove  the  un- 
qualified proposition,  that  language  is  the  gift  of  God.  A  hold  has 
thus  been  given  to  their  opponents,  as  it  is  evident  from  the  Very 
nature  of  the  expressions,  that  many,  if  not  most  of  the  words  in 
every  language  have  been  invented  by  man.  The  mere  philologist 
again,  in  attempting  to  philosophize  on  language  as  a  mere  human 
invention,  has  landed  himself  in  the  absurdity  of  attributing  the 
sublime  discovery  of  the  power  of  speech,  to  an  age  confessedly  too 
barbarous  to  make  the  much  more  simple  discovery  of  symbolical 
language.  Revelation  and  sound  philosophy  in  this  case,  as  in  all 
others,  are  at  one.  Language  was  originally  the  gift  of  God,  and  no 
doubt,  for  a  considerable  time,  the  same  language.  It  may  have 
been  a  language  of  the  simplest  kind,  and  in  all  probability  was  so. 
And  yet,  although  there  had  been  no  multiplying  of  the  languages 
of  the  earth,  and  the  passage  of  Scripture  in  reference  to  this  bears 
another  signification  which  has  been  sometimes  assigned  to  it,  that 
*'  God  confounded  their  works  ;'^  still  we  say,  from  this  one  original 
tongue,  there  may  easily  have  emerged  all  the  languages  on  the  face 
of  our  earth.     When  we  consider  the  great  changes  that  have  taken 


WRITTEN    LANGUAGE.  333 

place  in  modern  languages  in  a  comparatively  short  time,  how  easy 
would  it  be  for  a  language  to  be  entirely  changed,  when  there  was 
almost  no  communication  between  different  countries? 

On  the  supposition  that  language  is  of  human  origin,  we  should 
be  inclined  to  favour  the  former  of  these  hypotheses,  although  we 
confess,  from  the  very  able  treatise  on  this  subject  which  was  de- 
livered a  few  weeks  ago  from  our  Humanity  Chair,  we  had  almost 
been  led  to  give  the  preference  to  the  latter.  Place  a  number  of 
children  in  a  room  by  themselves,  say  the  advocates  of  the  first 
hypothesis,  and  the  first  thing  they  would  set  about,  would  be,  to 
give  names  to  the  objects  around  them.  This,  however,  say  those 
who  hold  by  the  other  supposition,  suppose  that  the  children  have 
been  previously  acquainted  with  language.  Were  it  otherwise,  no 
child  would  give  a  name  to  an  object,  until  it  had,  in  some  way  or 
other,  affected  his  own  person,  and  then  he  would  name  the  object 
from  its  felt  effects.  Thus,  it  is  said,  he  would  call  fire  the  hurnevy 
water  tlie  cooler',  &c. 

There  is  a  difficulty,  however,  connected  with  this  hypothesis,  not- 
withstanding its  plausibility,  which  would  lead  us,  were  we  at  all 
inclined  to  think  language  a  human  invention,  to  give  the  preference 
to  the  other.  Before  the  child  could  make  his  companions  under- 
stand what  was  meant  by  the  name  burner,  he  must  have  first  com- 
municated to  them  the  meaning  of  the  verb  to  burn. 

;Jj  *  *  *  *  * 

In  the  discussions  of  Political  Economy,  the  subject  of  ecclesi- 
astical establishments  necessarily  finds  a  place.  Dr.  Chalmers 
naturally  and  properly  discusses  them  in  his  prelections.  Though 
unacquainted  with  the  arguments  employed  in  his  lectures  to  his 
class,  those  who  have  read  his  volumes  on  "  Christian  and  Civic 
Economy,"  cannot  be  altogether  ignorant  of  his  views.  Those 
volumes  I  have  read  with  some  attention,  and  greatly  admire  the 
ingenious  and  often  conclusive  reasonings  of  their  eloquent  and 
candid  author  on  many  of  the  points  which  he  discusses.  But  I 
do  not  hesitate  to  say,  that  on  his  own  principles  as  a  political 
economist,  he  begs  the  question  in  regard  to  civil  establishments 
of  religion ;  he  assumes  what  he  ought  first  to  have  proved,  and 


334  APPENDIX. 

reasons  on  premises  not  sufficiently  established.  And,  if  certain 
data  laid  down  by  himself  be  incontrovertible,  the  defence  of  such 
institutions  is,  in  my  opinion,  rendered  impracticable.  If  boun- 
ties and  drawbacks  are  invaribly  injurious  to  commerce;  if  char- 
tered companies  and  monopolies  are  destructive  to  the  natural 
operations  of  enterprise  and  labour  :  if  fair  trade,  and  fair  compe- 
tition, ought  to  be  allowed  and  encouraged  in  regard  to  all  other 
things,  I  do  not  perceive  how  religion  should  be  excluded  from 
the  same  benefit.  With  the  religious  question  I  have  here 
nothing  to  do ;  that  rests  on  difi'erent  principles,  and  must  be 
met  on  different  grounds.  But  I  am  not  the  only  person  who 
wishes  most  ardently  that  Dr.  Chalmers  would  fairly  meet  the 
subject  on  its  true  merits  as  a  question  of  Political  Economy. 
He  will  forgive  me  for  saying,  in  this  public  manner,  what  I  know 
to  be  the  opinion  of  many  of  his  own  pupils,  as  well  as  of  others, 
that  he  is  called  upon  to  do  so :  for,  if  his  politico-economical 
principles  should  be  once  firmly  fixed  in  this  country,  they  would  do 
more  to  lessen  and  destroy  the  faith  of  the  country  in  the  neces- 
sity and  beneficial  tendency  of  church  establishments,  than  any 
other  thing. 

I  am  led  to  make  these  observations,  by  finding  among  the 
papers  of  my  young  friend,  a  fragment  on  this  subject,  which 
refers  to  the  views  and  reasonings  of  Dr.  Chalmers,  and  which 
shows,  while  it  shows  no  more,  that  they  had  not  produced  con- 
viction on  his  mind.  The  truly  catholic  spirit  of  the  writer  is 
strongly  marked;  and  I  can  only  regret  that  the  paper  was  left 
unfinished. 

ON  RELIGIOUS  ESTABLISHMENTS. 

In  the  history  of  nations,  we  often  find  that  those  states  which 
had  been  united  in  the  closest  alliance  by  the  approach  of  some 
common  enemy,  have  no  sooner  succeeded  in  their  efforts  to  repel 
him,  than  there  have  again  burst  forth  between  them  those  ancient 
feuds  and  dissensions  which  the  common  danger  had  for  a  while 


RELIGIOUS    ESTABLISHMENTS.  335 

extinguished.  And  such  too  has  been  the  case  among  different  sects 
of  Christians.  The  doctrines  of  Christianity  are  of  such  a  nature 
that  in  order  to  experience  their  efficacy  we  must  judge  of  them  for 
ourselves.  They  cannot,  like  algebra  and  political  economy,  be 
transmitted  unaltered  from  one  mind  to  another.  All  those  who 
give  sufficient  attention  to  a  mathematical  problem,  however  varied 
may  be  the  conformation  of  their  minds,  will  come  exactly  to  the 
same  conclusion.  Such  truths  are  not  affected  by  the  peculiar  con- 
formation of  the  mind  through  which  they  pass.  But  it  is  quite  the 
reverse  with  the  truths  of  Christianity.  And,  accordingly,  thouo-h 
we  may  find  many  whose  philosophical  or  political  creed  agrees  in 
every  iota,  yet  we  know  not  if  there  can  be  found  any  two  Christians 
whose  theological  views  entirely  coincide.  Were  every  one  to  resolve 
to  hold  communion  with  none  but  those  whose  theological  creed  in 
every  point  coincided  with  his  own,  there  would  in  all  likelihood,  be 
in  the  Christian  Church,  nearly  as  many  sects  as  there  are  members. 

They  are  only  the  externals  of  Christianity,  however,  about  which 
Christians  are  divided ;  concerning  those  grand  doctrines  which  dis- 
tinguish it  from  every  other  religion,  they  are  perfectly  agreed.  In 
times  of  persecution,  accordingly,  we  find,  that  their  petty  differ- 
ences are  forgotten,  and  they  rally  with  one  accord  to  defend  the 
bulwarks  of  their  common  faith.  And  no  sooner  was  our  land 
favoured  with  the  inestimable  blessing  of  religious  toleration,  than 
religionists  began  to  be  divided  into  different  sects  or  parties.  This 
of  itself,  however  distressing  it  may  appear  at  first  sight,  we  con- 
sider as  a  matter  of  rejoicing,  rather  than  regret. 

There  seems  to  be  a  final  cause  in  even  this  imperfection  of  our 
Christian  knowledge.  There  is  a  generous  emulation  thus  main- 
tained in  the  walks  of  Christianity,  and  a  greater  provoking  of  one 
another  to  good  works,  than  if  all  were  perfectly  agreed.  But  there 
is  a  spirit  of  sectarianism,  which,  in  this  state  of  things,  is  too  apt 
to  break  forth  among  all  parties,  —  a  desire  to  magnify  those  matters 
about  which  Christians  differ,  and  thereby  to  forget  those  subliraer 
truths  concerning  which  they  are  agreed. 

It  must  be  matter  of  regret  to  every  one  of  a  really  catholic  spirit, 
and  who  has  the  interests  of  genuine  religion  seriously  at  heart,  that 
so  much  has  been  said,  and  so  much  has  been  written  about  the 
merest  trifles  in  the  externals  of  Christianity,  while  those  who  have 


836  APPENDIX. 

been  keenest  in  the  controversy  have  frequently  been  forgetful  of 
those  grander  truths,  which  imparted  to  the  matters  about  which 
they  were  contending,  all  their  weigiit  and  all  their  importance.  In- 
significant and  unimportant,  however,  as  we  believe  these  matters 
to  be,  when  compared  with  the  vital  doctrines  of  Christianity ;  yet, 
viewed  abstractly,  or,  in  comparison  of  earthly  things,  we  deem 
them  of  the  highest  and  most  serious  import.  While  it  seems  most 
imperiously  our  duty  to  attend  to  the  spiritual  things  of  religion,  it 
seems  equally  our  duty  not  to  neglect  those  external  regulations 
which  are  intended  to  preserve  the  purity  and  spirituality  of  our 
faith. 

Of  all  those  inferior  points  about  which  Christians  disagree,  the 
question  of  religious  establishments  is  perhaps  the  most  important. 
We  confess  that,  from  our  education,  all  our  prejudices  have  been 
against  church  establishments ;  and  it  is,  perhaps,  on  this  account 
that  that  powerful  argumentation,  which  has  appeared  so  luminous 
and  so  satisfactory  to  others,  has  failed  to  produce  upon  our  mind 
the  same  efi"ect.  It  has  very  much  enlightened,  but  it  has  not  con- 
vinced us.  We  waive,  at  present,  the  consideration  of  any  religious 
establishments  that  have  ever  existed,  or  of  our  national  establish- 
ments as  they  exist  at  present. 

****** 


ON  THE  LOVE  OF  FAME. 
"And  seekest  thou  great  things  for  thyself?"  &c. 


Jeremiah. 


I  HAVE  often  thought  it  peculiarly  interesting  to  compare  that 
morality  which  is  to  be  found  in  the  systems  of  ancient  philosophy, 
with  the  morality  which  is  contained  in  the  Bible ;  to  see  the  heart 
of  man  still  reflecting,  though  dimly  and  imperfectly,  that  image 
which  was  stamped  upon  it  at  first ;  to  observe  the  harmonious  ac- 
cordance which  obtains  between  the  law  that  is  written  in  the  heart, 
and  the  law  which  has  been  revealed  to  us  by  the  Spirit  of  God,  and 
thus  to  identify  that  God  who  hath  formed  the  heart  of  man,  with 


LOVE    OF    FAME.  337 

that  God,  who,  in  times  past,  spake  unto  the  fathers  by  the  prophets; 
and  who  hath  in  these  last  days  spoken  unto  us  by  his  Son. 

Some  of  these  theories  of  the  ancients  are  so  beautiful,  and  so 
perfect,  that  we  are  apt  to  feel  disappointed  that  their  practical  in- 
fluence was  not  extensively  and  powerfully  felt.  But  we  shall  not 
wonder  at  this,  if  we  consider  how  difficult  it  is  to  arrest  the  atten- 
tion by  abstract  truths ;  and  how  little  of  practical  efficacy  there  is 
in  such  truths,  even  when  most  fully  apprehended.  To  cultivate 
any  feeling,  we  must  not  look  to  the  feeling  itself,  but  to  the  object 
which  naturally  excites  it.  And  in  this  point  of  view  we  may  be- 
hold the  vast  superiority  of  the  Christian  religion,  to  every  other, 
as  a  system  of  practical  morality. 

Here  the  abstract  principles  of  natural  religion  are  embodied  in 
facts :  and  all  that  we  have  to  do  is  to  direct  the  attention  to  these 
facts,  and  the  proper  state  of  feeling  is  the  invariable  and  immediate 
result. 

But  not  only  are  the  symptoms  of  the  ancient  philosophers  de- 
ficient in  practical  efficacy ;  they  are  even  imperfect  as  theories  of 
morality.  Pure  and  elevated  as  they  appear,  when  viewed  ab- 
stractly and  in  themselves,  they  cannot  stand  a  comparison  with  that 
purer  system  which  has  been  given  us  by  revelation. 

To  most  of  the  precepts  which  are  given  us  in  the  Bible,  we  can 
find  some  counterpart  in  the  writings  of  heathen  philosophers;  but 
there  is  one  virtue  which  we  hesitate  not  to  say,  is  more  frequently 
inculcated  in  the  Bible,  than  any  other,  for  a  counterpart  to  which 
you  may  search  the  whole  writings  of  ancient  philosophy,  and  find 
nothing  that  bears  to  it  the  most  distant  resemblance.  Never  did 
there  come  from  the  pen  of  a  heathen,  sentiments  like  those  con- 
tained in  our  motto:  "  Seekest  thou  great  things  for  thyself ?  Seek 
thera  not."  It  is  a  very  striking  fact,  that,  in  the  language  of  Greece 
and  Rome,  there  is  not  a  word  to  express  humility  as  a  virtue:  those 
words  which  are  generally  used  signify  rather  meanness,  and  that 
crouching  to  power,  which  is  the  feeling  not  of  a  humble,  but  of  a 
dastardly  spirit.  On  the  other  hand,  pride  and  haughtiness  were 
considered  as  the  concomitants  of  prowess  and  bravery ;  and  hence 
the  heroes  of  ancient  poetry  are  generally  furnished  with  an  abun- 
dant portion  of  both. 

Yes,  that  vice  which  we  inherit  from  the  author  of  our  misery^ 

29 


338  APPENDIX. 

lurks  too  successfully  in  the  recesses  of  the  humanl)osom,  to  he  dis- 
covered by  the  light  of  reason  alone;  it  requires  a  more  searching 
scrutiny  to  drag  it  from  that  place,  while  it  has  taken  up  its  abode 
in  the  inmost  penetralia  of  our  souls.  In  the  present  depraved  state 
of  the  human  heart,  it  is  dijfficult  to  distinguish  between  those  de- 
sires and  propensities  which  may  have  once  been  pure,  but  which, 
at  the  fall,  were  perverted ;  and  those  which  are  radically  evil,  and 
which  could  not  have  existed  in  the  heart  of  man,  in  his  state  of 
original  purity.  Without  hesitation,  we  would  class  pride  in  the 
latter  division,  as  a  feeling  altogether  of  demoniacal  origin  ;  and 
which  could  not  exist  in  the  mind  of  a  pure  and  holy  being. 

But  though  we  can  thus  give  a  most  unhesitating  deliverance  with 
regard  to  this  vice  itself,  there  are  some  of  its  modifications  about 
which  we  cannot  pronounce  so  decidedly.  The  desire  of  fame,  and 
the  desire  of  power,  and  all  that  is  described  in  our  text  by  the  seek- 
ing after  great  things,  have  so  often  been  declared  by  our  theologi- 
cal writers  to  be  innocent,  if  not  laudable  propensities,  that  we 
almost  feel  as  if  it  were  presumption  for  us  to  give  it  as  our  opinion, 
that  they  are  inimical  to  the  spirit  of  true  religion. 

It  may  be  true,  that  such  feelings  existed  in  the  bosom  of  our  first 
parents,  before  their  expulsion  from  the  blissful  abodes  of  Eden  . 
and  that  they  vied  with  each  other  to  gain  the  favour  and  applause 
perhaps  of  their  God.  And  it  may  be  true,  that  there  is  among 
the  angels  a  generous  emulation,  to  provoke  each  other  to  good 
works  ;  but  still  we  think  it  true,  that  in  our  present  condition,  it  is 
extremely  dangerous,  if  not  sinful,  to  give  way  to  this  propensity. 

It  may  be  argued,  indeed,  that  the  love  of  praise  operates  as  a 
very  powerful  principle  in  restraining  many  of  the  fiercer  passions, 
and  that  without  it  the  moral  world  would  soon  become  a  scene  of 
wild  confusion  and  disorder;  but  in  the  same  manner  might  we 
plead  for  anger  and  selfishness,  and  even  avarice  itself.  These  are 
all  very  powerful  checks  in  restraining  many  of  our  grosser  propen- 
sities, and  to  them  we  are  indebted  for  many  of  the  decencies  which 
adorn  civilized  society ;  but  who  would  make  this  a  plea  for  their 
virtuousness? 

There  is  one  circumstance  which  makes  the  love  of  fame  a  very 
dangerous  propensity  ;  it  is  the  very  low  standard  of  virtue  which 
generally  prevails  in  the  world.     AVere  the  standard  a  perfect  one, 


LOVE    OF    FAME.  83^ 

then  would  the  case  bo  different.  He  only  would  "be  praised,  who 
was  truly  virtuous,  aud  the  love  of  fame  would  be  identical  with 
the  love  of  virtue.  But  this,  alas,  is  not  the  case.  The  men  of  the 
world  have  fixed  on  a  standard  of  virtue  convenient  for  themselves; ; 
and  whoever  by  his  actions  goes  beyond  this  standard,  tacitly  pro- 
nounces condemnation  upon  them,  and  most  assuredly  will  meet 
with  their  hatred  and  disapprobati^on.  It  is  thus  that  the  most  vir- 
tuous in  all  ages  have  been  met  with  ignominy  and  contempt.  And 
it  is  thus  that  this  deference  to  the  opinion  of  the  world  has  diverted 
many  from  the  conscientious  performance  of  what  they  knew  to  be 
right. 

Thus,  even  in  a  worldly  point  of  view,  and  considered  merely  as 
an  abstract  question  in  morals,  would  we  consider  the  opinions  of 
our  fellow-men  a  most  improper  standard  whereby  to  regulate  our 
actions.  But  when  we  add  yet  anothei;  element,  and  consider  the 
subject  as  it  bears  upon  our  religious  character,  — when  we  consider 
it  not  only  as  it  affects  our  duty  to  our  fellow-men,  but  as  it  affects 
our  duty  to  God,  we  shall  feel  that  to  make  the  praise  of  men  the 
standard  of  our  conduct  is  still  more  dangerous. 

The  love  of  praise  is,  perhaps,  an  original  principle  of  our  con- 
stitution ;  and  if  it  be,  then  it  were  vain  to  attempt  its  annihilation. 
Nor  is  this  required  of  us.  All  that  we  are  bid  to  do  in  the  Bible, 
is  to  give  it  a  new  direction.  And  the  condemnation  of  the  Phari- 
sees of  old,  was  not  that  they  loved  praise,  but  that  they  loved  the 
praise  of  men  more  than  the  praise  of  God. 

We  know  of  no  feeling  in  our  constitution  which  is  stronger, 
which  is  more  difficult  to  overcome  than  the  love  of  fame,  or  the  love 
of  praise,  for  we  hold  them  to  be  very  nearly  the  same.  So  strong 
is  it,  that  it  is  capable  of  carrying  us  through  the  greatest  difficul- 
ties and  dangers,  of  enabling  us  to  persevere  in  the  most  unwearied 
exertion,  and  urging  us  onward  even  to  death  itself. 

What  is  it  that  animates  the  breast  of  the  enterprising  traveller, 
in  his  laborious  researches  ? 

?}C  ^  ?iC  3|£  2^  ?fC 


340  APPENDIX. 

G. 

DISCOURSE  ON  2  CORINTHIANS  iv.  13. 

"We  having  the  same  spirit  of  faith,  according  as  it  is  written,  I  believed, 
and  therefore  hate  I  spoken  ;  we  also  believe,  and  therefore  speali." 

There  is  a  common  proverb,  that  "  the  truth  should  not  be  always 
told."  In  other  words,  that  it  is  not  always  a  good  reason  for  speak- 
ing that  we  believe.  Although  apparently  at  first  sight  a  little  para- 
doxical, this  saying  will  be  found  like  most  other  proverbs,  to  em- 
body the  wisdom  of  very  extensive  experience. 

There  are  some  truths  which  concern  only  a  few  individuals,  and 
in  which  the  rest  of  mankind  have  no  interest  whatever.  If  there 
Ibe  nothing  absolutely  wrong,  there  is  at  least  something  very  trifling 
in  publishing  such  matters.  And  you  cannot,  perhaps,  pitch  upon 
a  character  more  universally  despised,  than  that  of  the  busy-body  or 
the  tell-tale.  Yet  each  of  these  deservedly  detested  characters, 
could,  perhaps,  allege  in  excuse  for  all  his  silly  conversation,  that 
he  spoke  because  he  believed. 

There  are  other  truths  which,  it  would  be  not  only  idle  and  im- 
proper, but  which  it  might  be  cruel,  or  even  criminal  to  promulgate. 
That  man  could  have  but  little  tenderness  or  humanity  in  his  dis- 
position, who  should  assiduously  relate  the  disgraces,  or  the  crimes 
of  a  departed  parent,  to  the  surviving  children  ;  and  we  would  not 
hesitate  to  pronounce  it  a  breach  of  the  second  great  commandment 
of  the  law,  to  expose  to  public  view  the  defects  in  the  private  charac- 
ter of  our  neighbour.  You  are  aware,  indeed,  that  the  latter  action 
not  only  is  a  palpable  transgression  of  the  law  of  God,  but  comes 
under  the  cognizance  even  of  human  jurisprudence.  Truth  is  a 
libel ;  and  it  would  be  no  excuse  in  a  court  of  justice,  for  the  defamer 
of  his  neighbour's  good  name  to  affirm,  that  he  had  published  only 
■what  he  had  good  ground  to  believe. 

You  perceive  then,  that  the  quality  of  the  motive  which  Paul 
affirms  to  have  actuated  him  in  his  public  speaking,  and  in  his  writ- 
ings, must  depend  upon  the  character  of  those  truths,  which  he  so 
assiduously  proclaimed.     If  they  were  truths  which  concerned  only 


DISCOURSE    ON    FAITH.  '341 

a  few  individuals,  or  which,  if  they  had  a  reference  to  all,  were  of 
comparatively  insignij&cant  importance,  then  it  was  folly  in  Paul  to 
labour  so  hard,  and  to  suffer  so  much  to  proclaim  them  ;  and,  not- 
withstanding all  the  cogency  of  his  reasoning,  and  the  sublimity  of 
his  eloquence,  we  should,  in  such  a  case,  be  tempted  to  concur  in 
the  opinion  of  the  eastern  ruler,  that  after  all  he  was  but  a  learned 
madman. 

If,  again,  the  truths  which  Paul  preached  tended  only  to  harrow 
up  the  feelings  of  mankind,  and  to  destroy  what  might  be  but  early 
prejudices,  but  yet  prejudices  with  which  those  Avhum  they  in- 
fluenced had  associated  all  that  they  held  dear  as  patriots,  and  all 
that  they  thought  sacred  in  religion :  if  these  truths  tended  only  to 
bring  to  light  evils  that  had  long  been  hidden,  and  which  had  even 
by  the  common  consent  of  mankind  been  carefully  concealed:  if, 
finally,  they  tended  only  to  demonstrate  to  mankind  that  their  wis- 
dom was  folly,  and  that  their  boasted  virtue  which  they  had  hoped 
would  open  for  them  the  gates  of  heaven,  not  only  was  altogether 
unable  to  expiate  their  crimes,  but  was  itself  too  much  tainted  -with 
impurity  to  find  acceptance  before  God :  if  this  alone  was  the  ten- 
dency of  the  truths  which  Paul  preached,  it  was  more  than  folly  — 
it  was  cruelty  to  proclaim  them.  Better  far  for  the  world,  they  had 
never  been  promulgated. 

But  I  need  not  tell  you  that  the  doctrines  which  Paul  preached 
were  of  a  far  different  character. 

It  is  true  that  they  directly  tended  to  produce  all  the  seeming 
evils  I  have  been  describing ;  but  God  be  thanked,  this  was  not 
their  only  tendency.  True,  the  feelings  of  the  decent  and  the  virtu- 
ous among  mankind  would  be  harrowed  up,  when  they  were  classed 
with  the  vilest  of  their  species,  and  told  that  they  had  been  wearing 
but  the  mask  of  virtue ;  that  the  hidden  man  of  the  heart  was  utterly 
polluted;  that  God  had  concluded  all  under  sin,  and  that  therefore, 
all  are  under  condemnation.  True,  the  prejudices  of  the  Jews,  with 
all  their  associations  of  patriotism  and  sacredness,  must  have  been 
shocked  at  being  told  that  the  descendants  of  Abraham  were  no 
longer  God's  chosen  nation,  but  that  the  Gentiles  were  become  fel- 
low-heirs with  them  of  the  promises.  True,  the  apostle's  preaching 
was,  to  the  Jews,  a  stumbling-block,  and  to  the  Greeks  foolishness; 
but  this  was  not  all,  or  I  repeat  it,  the  apostle  was  guilty  of  the 
29* 


342  APPENDIX. 

greatest  cruelty.    But  unto  them  who  believe,  both  Jews  and  Greeks, 
it  was  the  power  of  God,  and  the  wisdom  of  God. 

In  order  then  to  show  that  the  simple  belief  of  the  truths  of  the 
gospel  is  sufficient  reason  for  preaching  them,  and  preaching  them, 
too,  with  all  the  unwearied  diligence  and  fervent  zeal  which  charac- 
terized the  preaching  of  the  apostle  Paul ;  and  at  the  risk  too,  of  all 
the  losses  and  persecutions  to  which  his  ministi-y  subjected  him,  we 
shall  attempt  to  show,  — 

I.  The  perfection  and  excellency  of  the  New  Testament  dis- 
pensation. 

IL  We  shall  also  attempt  to  show,  that  the  belief  of  the  gospel  is 
not  only  a  sufficient  reason  for  preaching  it,  but  that  it  is  the  only 
right  motive  which  can  lead  an  individual  to  the  choice  of  the  min- 
istry as  his  occupation. 

The  perfection  and  excellency  of  the  New  Testament  dispensation 
may  perhaps  be  most  strijsingly  illustrated  by  contrasting  it  with 
less  perfect  discoveries. 

We  remark,  then,  that  the  doctrines  of  natural  religion,  (with  a 
very  few  exceptions,)  are  so  very  dark  and  confused,  as  scarcely  to 
warrant,  and  by  no  means  to  encourage  its  promulgation  as  a  sys- 
tem, on  the  part  of  those  who  embrace  it. 

By  the  light  of  nature,  it  is  true,  we  can  clearly  perceive  the  ex- 
istence and  some  of  the  attributes  of  Deity.  It  is  not  to  the  doctrines 
of  natural  religion,  taken  individually,  but  to  natural  theology  itself 
as  a  system  of  religion,  that  the  foregoing  remark  is  applicable. 
Had  God  never  revealed  himself  to  us  by  his  Spirit,  or  by  his  Son, 
still  we  might  have  known  something  of  his  character  from  the 
works  which  he  has  made.  And  in  contrasting  the  declarations  of 
God's  word  with  the  language  of  his  works,  we  conceive  that  men  of 
different  parties  have  fallen  into  opposite  extremes.  The  mere 
philosopher  would  wish  to  convince  us  that  nature  speaks  so  audibly, 
and  so  unequivocally  of  her  Sovereign,  as  to  render  all  supernatural 
declarations  of  his  will  unnecessary  ;  while,  on  the  other  hand,  it 
must  be  confessed,  that  the  advocates  of  a  written  testimony  from 
above  have  sometimes,  through  a  wish  to  magnify  the  importance 
of  the  communications  of  God's  Spirit,  depreciated  that  testimony 


DISCOURSE    ON    FAITH.  343 

which  his  works  undoubtedly  bear  to  the  character  of  their  ^rerit 
Creator.  It  is  our  wish  to  steer  clear  of  these  extremes ;  ami,  in 
attempting  to  do  so,  we  cannot  follow  a  safer  course  than  that  which 
the  written  testimony  itself  points  out. 

"  The  heavens  declare  the  glory  of  God,  and  the  firmament  showcth 
forth  his  handy-work.  Day  unto  day  uttereth  speech,  and  night  unto 
night  showeth  knowledge.  There  is  no  speech  nor  language  where 
their  voice  is  not  heard.  Their  line  has  gone  out  through  all  the 
earth,  and  their  words  to  the  end  of  the  world."  The  invisible 
things  of  our  Creator,  even  his  eternal  power  and  Godhead,  are  thus 
clearly  seen  from  the  creation  of  the  world  —  "  being  understood  by 
the  things  that  are  made." 

So  far  the  voice  of  nature  utters  a  clear  and  decided  declaration ; 
and  so  far,  those  whjD  have  listened  to  no  higher  testimony,  are  re- 
prehensible if  they  speak  not  what  they  believe,  or  what  they  would 
believe  did  they  attend  as  they  ought  to  the  evidence  around  them. 
But  when  we  attempt  from  these  few  isolated,  though  important 
truths,  to  form  a  system  of  religion  —  something  that  may  satisfy  us 
as  to  the  relation  in  which  we  stand  to  the  powerful  Being  who  cre- 
ated the  world,  how  very  imperfect  does  all  our  knowledge  appear 
—  how  unsatisfactory  all  our  conclusions  —  how  dark  and  fearful 
our  prospect  of  futurity  ! 

The  ancient  philosophers  of  Greece  and  Rome  could  clearly  per- 
ceive, that  there  was  one  great  Author  and  Governor  of  all  things  — 
a  Being  of  inconceivable  glory,  and  of  infinite  power —  and  there- 
fore a  Being  widely  different  from  those  contemptible  deities  which 
the  impure  imagination  of  their  poets  had  feigned,  and  which  the 
perverted  judgment  of  a  degraded  populace  had  accepted  as  the 
objects  of  their  worship.  They  must  thus  have  perceived  that  idola- 
try was  not  only  a  folly  but  a  crime,  and,  in  so  far,  they  were  guilty 
for  not  promulgating  the  truths  they  believed ;  and,  in  so  far,  they 
are  liable  to  that  fearful  curse  which  is  denounced  against  those 
who  "confine  the  truth  by  unrighteousness." 

But  it  may  go  far,  perhaps,  to  palliate,  though  it  cannot  atone  for 
their  crime,  that,  when  they  attempted  to  carry  out  their  own 
speculations,  they  were  landed  in  most  unsatisfactory  conclusions ; 
and  if  they  attempted  to  guess,  when  they  could  no  longer  deter- 
mine with  certainty,  their  conjectures  of  futurity  must  have  been 


344  APPENDIX. 

only  those  of  terror  and  despair.  Not  only  must  they  have  heen 
convinced  from  the  wondrous  objects  around  them,  of  the  power  and 
glory  of  God,  but  from  the  conscience  within  them  —  that  monitor 
which  whispers  approbation  to  all  that  is  good,  and  so  loudly  and 
bitterly  condemns  what  is  evil;  they  must  have  been  impressed  with 
the  belief,  that  He,  who  gave  them  such  a  constitution,  must  him- 
self be  a  lover  of  righteousness,  and  a  hater  of  iniquity.  The  voice 
of  that  monitor,  however,  they  must  have  been  conscious  they  had 
often  disobeyed  ;  and  the  thought  cannot  fail  to  have  struck  them, 
that  in  so  doing,  they  had  offended  Him  who  had  placed  that  moni- 
tor within  them.  They  must  thus  have  arrived  at  the  conclusion, 
that  they  had  forfeited  the  favour  of  him  whom  his  works  declared 
so  mighty  and  so  glorious.  If  they  risked  the  thought  of  another 
state  of  being  where  they  should  be  brought  into  the  more  imme- 
diate presence  of  an  ojffended  God,  how  fearful  must  have  been  the 
prospect !  If  God  were  just,  they  must  abide  his  righteous  indigna- 
tion ;  and  if  he  were  unjust,  the  prospect  was  not  more  pleasing. 
Here  was  a  very  fearful  dilemma,  and  yet  this  was  the  legitimate 
conclusion  into  which  their  inquiries  must  have  landed  them.  We 
do  not  say,  that  all,  or  any  of  the  ancient  philosophers  arrived  at 
this  conclusion ;  but  if  they  did  not,  it  was  because,  dreading  the 
result,  they  shrunk  from  the  inquiry. 

Now,  with  such  a  revelation  as  this,  what  encouragement  was 
there  to  promulgate  their  opinions?  They  could  not  come  boldly 
forward  with  the  great  apostle  of  our  faith,  and  say,  —  "  We  speak 
because  we  believe."  All  with  themselves  was  darkness  and  doubt ; 
or  if  their  conjectures  amounted  to  probability,  it  was  a  probability 
of  the  most  fearful  kind ;  they  felt  that  their  opinions  landed  them- 
selves in  no  satisfactory  conclusions ;  or  if  they  did  seem  to  point  to 
any  one  conclusion  more  decidedly,  it  was  one  of  the  most  appalling 
nature,  —  even  that  the  whole  world  were  exposed  to  the  anger  of  a 
justly  offended  God. 

This  view  of  natural  religion  may  serve  to  explain  to  us  how  the 
philosophers  of  ancient  times  were  so  enlightened,  while  the  multi- 
tude around  them  were  sunk  in  the  most  degraded  ignorance.  They 
did  not  think  the  truths  they  possessed  worth  promulgating,  far  less 
worth  suffering  for.  Socrates,  that  prince  of  heathens,  dashed  the 
crown  of  martyrdom  away  from  him,  when  it  had  been  as  easy  for 


DISCOURSE    ON    FAITH.  345 

him  to  have  gained  it  as  to  have  refused  it,  disclaimed  the  honour- 
able charge  that  was  laid  to  him  of  despising  the  abominations  with 
which  he  was  surrounded,  and  even  by  his  latest  breath  giving  the 
order  that  the  idolatry  of  his  country  should  be  sanctioned  by  his 
name. 

They  like  very  well  to  start  objections,  or  even  to  throw  the  most 
insolent  aspersions  on  the  truths  of  Christianity ;  but  when  you  ask 
them  what  they  would  substitute  in  its  place,  they  can  give  no  satis- 
factory answer.  They  are,  in  the  true  sense  of  the  word,  sceptics ; 
they  have  no  settled  opinions.  Infidels  they  are,  too,  —  they  doubt, 
—  they  disbelieve. 

You  see,  then,  that  with  such  knowledge  of  God  as  his  works  can 

give,  there  is  little  encouragement  to  promulgate  that  knowledge 

to  speak,  because  we  believe.  We  might  more  strikingly  illustrate 
this,  by  contrasting  the  inactivity  and  easy  carelessness  of  mere 
worshippers  of  nature  in  spreading  what  they  profess  to  believe 
with  the  ardour  and  the  self-denial  of  the  apostles  of  our  faith. 
Where,  among  the  great  and  the  wise,  who  have  made  reason  their 
god,  do  we  find  an  instance  of  suflering  for  conscience'  sake  ?  Or, 
if  a  very  few  such  examples  can  be  adduced,  — where  do  we  find  a 
single  instance  of  martyrdom  for  the  cause  of  truth  ?  But  I  am 
almost  forgetting  that  this  part  of  my  discourse  is  only  an  illustra- 
tion ;  and  is  merely  intended,  by  the  darkness  of  its  representation, 
to  mark  with  a  clearer  outline,  and  paint  with  stronger  colouring, 
that  glorious  dispensation  under  which  we  live. 

But  between  the  twilight  darkness  of  nature,  and  the  full  blaze 
of  that  light  which  shines  forth  in  revelation,  there  are  many  inter- 
mediate shades  of  brightness ;  and  besides  that  dispensation  of 
mercy  under  which  we  live,  there  is  many  a  supposable  way  in 
which  a  perfect  Being  might  have  treated  his  rebellious  dependants. 
You  will  excuse  me,  if,  in  order  to  illustrate,  still  further,  the  per- 
fection and  excellence  of  the  Christian  revelation,  I  dwell  on  some 
of  the  supposable  revelations  which  the  Deity  might  have  made 
to  us. 

I  am  aware,  that,  to  some,  this  may  seem  a  very  circuitous  method 
of  treating  my  subject,  and  I  may  appear  to  be  continually  hover- 
ing round  the  point  I  would  be  at,  without  ever  actually  reaching 
it.     But  it  seems  to  me,  that  there  arc  two  methods  by  which  a  clear 


840  APPENDIX. 

conception  of  any  object  may  be  presented,  either  by  directly  de- 
scribing what  it  is,  or  by  contrasting  it  with  what  it  is  not;  just  as 
the  painter  may  delineate  any  object,  either  by  actually  colouring 
what  he  wishes  to  portray,  or  by  encircling  it  with  a  ground  of  a 
colour  different  from  its  own.  Unquestionably,  both  in  the  case  it- 
self, and  in  the  illustration,  the  former  method,  in  most  cases,  is 
decidedly  preferable ;  but  it  is  as  unquestionable,  that  there  are  few 
instances  in  which  the  latter  method  is  more  advantageous.  Such 
an  instance,  I  conceive,  is  afforded  by  the  subject  which  I  am  now 
attempting  to  set  before  you.  You  have  all  heard  of  the  gospel 
again  and  again  ;  and  with  its  peculiar  doctrines,  and  the  blessings 
which  flow  from  them,  you  are  intimately  acquainted.  Since  you 
know,  then,  what  the  gospel  is,  I  have  hoped  to  throw  some  addi- 
tional illustration  around  it,  by  contrasting  it  with  what  it  is  not. 
We  all  know  what  a  blessing  health  is,  —  but  how  much  more  highly 
do  we  prize  this  blessing  when  just  recovered  from  some  painful 
disease.     To  return,  then,  from  this  digression,  I  remark, 

The  revelation  of  God  might  have  been  only  a  revelation  of  wrath. 

Indeed,  this  is  the  kind  of  revelation,  that,  from  any  previous  know- 
ledge of  the  divine  character,  we  should  have  expected.  I  have  already 
attempted  to  show,  that,  if  natural  religion  points  to  any  conclusion 
this  is  that  conclusion  ;  that  God  is  just  and  holy,  and  that  man  by  his 
sin  has  offended  him.  The  word  of  God,  we  should  expect,  would  sanc- 
tion the  declarations  of  his  works,  and  would  clearly  reveal  what 
they  had  but  faintly  indicated.  And,  accordingly,  it  is  so.  Reve- 
lations of  God's  word  do  not  give  the  lie  to  the  testimony  of  his 
works.  They  speak  one  language,  though  the  one  utters  its  decla- 
rations with  a  voice  more  audible  and  distinct.  Instead  of  a  reflec- 
tion of  God's  character  from  his  works,  we  have  now  a  clear  mani- 
festation of  that  character  in  his  word  ;  but  it  is  the  same  character 
which  both  assign  to  him;  both  declare  him  to  be  holy,  just,  and 
good. 

Instead  of  the  dictates  of  conscience,  we  have  now  the  precept, 
clear  and  express,  written  by  God's  own  finger.  And  instead  of  the 
conclusion  to  which  natural  religion  might  have  ted  us,  that,  since 
God  is  just  and  holy,  sin  must  be  punished,  we  have  now  the  express 
declaration  annexed  to  the  law  by  Ilim  who  wrote  it,  —  "The  soul 
that  sinueth,  it  shall  die." 


DISCOURSE    ON    FAITH.  347 

Instead  of  the  fearful  conjectures  of  natural  religion,  we  have  now 
a  still  more  fearful  certainty,  —  that,  since  all  men  have  manifestly 
sinned,  all  have  to  look  forward  to  eternal  condemnation.  It  is  true, 
some  have  objected,  that,  if  none  can  keep  the  law  of  God,  it  is  surely 
inconsistent  with  his  goodness  to  have  given  so  strict  a  law.  We 
might  answer  such  objections  with  the  apostle's  argamcnt,  —  "Nay, 
but  who  art  thou,  0  man,''  &c.  But  we  need  not  make  such  an 
appeal  to  God's  sovereignty.  An  imperfect  law  would  have  argued 
a  lawgiver  imperfectly  holy.  So  that  cither  holiness  and  goodness 
are  incompatible  with  each  other,  or  the  strictness  of  the  law  of  God 
is  consistent  with  his  goodness. 

If  there  was  little  encouragement  to  promulgate  the  doctrines  of 
natural  religion,  still  less  would  there  be  to  promulgate  the  doctrines 
of  a  revelation  so  fearful  as  this.  In  that  case  there  is  uncertainty,  or 
at  best,  fearful  conjecture;  but  then  it  was  but  conjecture,  and  the 
powerful  influence  of  hope  bore  the  minds  even  of  those  who  half 
believed  it,  above  its  fears.  But  here  there  is  nothing  on  which  hope 
can  lay  hold.  Here  is  no  conjecture  ;  it  is  certainty,  and  certainty 
the  most  overwhelming,  even  "a  certain  fearful  looking  for  of  judg- 
ment, and  fiery  indignation." 

Such  is  the  revelation  we  might  have  expected  from  Heaven  ;  and 
had  God  thus  dealt  with  us  according  to  our  deserts,  in  all  probabil- 
ity this  world,  as  it  now  is,  would  never  have  existed.  The  very 
first  breach  of  God's  law  must  have  immediately  incurred  the  full 
weight  of  the  curse ;  for,  it  were  absurd  to  talk  of  a  state  of  trial  in 
regard  to  those  whose  certain  destiny  was  everlasting  destruction* 
But  supposing,  for  a  moment,  that  the  world  did  exist  under  such  a 
dispensation,  as  it  exists  now,  and  rebellious  man  were  permitted  to 
live  a  few  short  years  as  the  ungodly  now  do,  in  forgetfulness  of 
God,  and  careless  security  ;  the  question  presents  itself,  —  Supposing 
this  fearful  revelation  of  God's  wrath  to  be  made  known  to  some 
individuals,  would  it  be  right  to  promulgate  the  dreadful  truth,  —  to 
speak,  because  we  believed?  We  conceive  not.  That  there  would 
be  no  encouragement  to  do  so  is  abundantly  manifest.  For  if  it  be 
no  enviable  duty  to  communicate  to  a  criminal  the  sentence  that 
condemns  him  to  the  sufi'ering  of  temporal  death,  it  were  assuredly 


348  APPENDIX. 

a  fearful  task  to  publish  the  death-warrant  of  a  world  doomed  to 
eternal  perdition. 

But,  we  conceive,  were  this  revelation  known  to  a  few,  it  would  be 
the  greatest  cruelty  on  their  part  to  publish  it ;  it  would  be  torment- 
ing before  the  time.  Could  it  indeed  be  hoped,  that  by  the  revela- 
tion of  God's  wrath  against  all  iniquity,  men  would  be  led  to  see  the 
evil  of  sin,  and  would  be  kept  from  sinking  deeper  in  destruction ; 
then  it  might  be  merciful  to  proclaim  it,  inasmuch  as  we  might 
thereby  hope  to  alleviate  the  punishment  which  we  could  not  pre- 
vent. But  who,  that  knows  the  mind  of  fallen  man,  does  not  see 
that  quite  the  reverse  of  this  would  be  the  case?  This  announce- 
ment of  the  Divine  justice  would  call  forth  a  fresh  display  of  the 
corruption  of  his  rebellious  subjects,  who  would  thereby  plunge  still 
deeper  into  the  abyss  of  perdition.  There  are  instances  even  now 
in  the  world,  of  some  who  have  despaired  of  mercy,  and  none  do  we 
find  more  hardened  against  their  God,  or  more  proudly  eminent  in 
rebellion.  They  gather  strength  from  despair,  and  they  dare  the 
Almighty  to  his  face.  Their  language  is,  "Evil,  be  thou  our  good. 
Let  us  eat  and  drink,  for  to-morrow  we  die.  —  Let  us  enjoy  while  we 
may,  the  pleasures  of  this  life,  and  then  sink  into  endless  misery." 
Rather  than  rouse  such  a  spirit  as  this,  would  it  not  be  better  to  let 
men  slumber  on  in  ignorance  of  their  fate,  till  destruction  itself 
awoke  them  from  their  slumbers? 

Under  such  a  dispensation,  it  is  very  obvious,  an  office,  analogous 
to  the  ministry,  could  never  have  existed.  If  these  fearful  truths 
were  known  to  a  single  individual  of  our  species,  he  must  thereby 
be  rendered  perfectly  wretched,  even  in  this  life,  and  would  be  led 
from  the  depravity  of  his  nature,  to  curse  the  justice  of  Jehovah, 
and  to  sin  with  a  high  hand  against  his  God.  It  is,  therefore,  alto- 
gether impossible  to  conceive  that  such  an  individual  should  publish 
these  appalling  truths  from  a  sense  of  duty,  or  a  conviction  that  it 
was  right,  whatever  might  be  the  consequences,  to  publish  the  will 
of  God  ;  and  we  can  see  no  other  motive  that  could  lead  him  to  di- 
vulge the  awful  secret,  but  one  of  the  most  devilish  malignity, — even 
a  wish  to  steal  from  his  fellows  their  envied  ignorance,  and  make 
them  as  wretched  as  himself.  Such  cruelty  were  it,  to  break  the 
slumbers  of  a  malefactor,  who,  on  the  night  before  his  execution, 
should  dream  of  pardon,  and  think  himself  restored  to  his  family 


DISCOURSE    ON    FAITH.  349 

and  his  friends,  to  tell  him  that  his  fancied  happiness  was  all  de- 
lusion, and  to  recall  his  thoughts  to  the  fearful  realities  before  him. 

There  is  an  anecdote  of  an  Indian  Brahmin,  which  may  throw 
some  light  upon  this  subject,  and  with  which  some  of  you  may  be 
acquainted.  You  are  aware  that  the  priests  of  India  think  it  the 
greatest  crime  to  destroy  animal  life,  and  accordingly  live  entirely 
on  herbs.  It  is  said  that  one  of  our  countrymen,  in  arguing  with 
one  of  these  Brahmins,  in  order  to  convince  him  of  the  falsity  of  the 
doctrines  he  held,  in  regard  to  this  matter,  showed  him  by  a  micro- 
scope that  the  stems  and  leaves  of  the  herbs  on  which  he  lived,  were 
covered  with  hundreds  of  minute,  yet  living  sentient  creatures.  This 
was  ocular  demonstration,  and  it  could  not  be  resisted.  The 
priest  had  placed  his  hopes  of  happiness  on  his  fancied  innocence, 
and  now  that  the  enormity  of  his  crimes  was  laid  before  him,  his 
peace  of  mind  was  destroyed,  and  all  his  hopes  of  enjoyment  were 
blasted.  It  is  said,  that  after  continuing  thoughtful  for  a  consider- 
able time,  he  earnestly  inquired  of  the  other  on  what  terms  he  would 
part  with  this  wonderful  instrument ;  and  having  at  last  with  con- 
siderable difficulty,  obtained  possession  of  it,  he  dashed  it  into  a 
thousand  pieces.  It  had  broken  his  peace  of  mind,  he  said,  but 
never  should  it  destroy  the  peace  of  another. 

This  anecdote  is  generally  adduced  as  affording  an  instance  of 
bigoted  attachment  to  former  opinions,  even  when  convinced  of  their 
falseness.  Bat  we  view  it  in  a  very  different  light ;  we  think  that 
the  action  displays  a  dignified  benevolence.  Had  new  hopes  of  hap- 
piness, founded  on  more  rational  principles,  been  substituted  in  the 
room  of  those  which  he  now  perceived  to  be  so  groundless,  then  it 
would  Ijave  been  cruelty  to  have  allowed  his  countrymen  to  dream 
of  happiness  that  could  never  be  realized;  but  the  alternative  was 
not  between  delusive  hopes  and  rational  expectations  of  enjoyment, 
but  between  a  dream  of  happiness  and  the  certainty  of  woe. 

And  just  so,  had  the  gospel  never  reached  our  earth,  but  only  a  reve- 
lation of  God's  perfect  holiness  and  justice,  it  had  been  better  far  that 
men  should  be  permitted,  while  here,  to  dream  on  of  a  heaven  they 
were  never  to  enter,  than  to  tell  them  beforehand  of  the  punishment 
it  was  impossible  to  escape,  and  thus  to  add  to  the  sufferings  that 
soon  were  to  burst  upon  them  the  dire  forebodings  of  misery,  in  some 
cases  more  dreadful  even  than  the  misery  itself. 

30 


850  APPENDIX. 

But  let  us  turn  from  these  terrific  suppositions  to  the  glorious 
reality.  It  is  not  a  message  of  condemnation  which  we  are  commis- 
sioned to  bear  to  our  fellow-men.  The  tidings  that  have  reached  us 
from  on  high  are  "  glad  tidings  of  great  joy."  That  fearful  revela- 
tion, indeed,  which  we  have  just  been  considering,  is  still  true,  and 
has  been  revealed  to  us  from  heaven,  but,  God  be  thanked,  it  came 
not  alone ;  and  the  dread  nature  of  that  condemnation  which  it  re- 
veals, serves  but  to  cast  a  brighter  lustre  around  the  offers  of  that 
mercy  which  promises  a  free  pardon  to  all  who  will  but  accept  of  it. 
In  all  the  revelations  God  has  made  to  us,  mercy  is  the  prominent 
feature.  Mercy  even  anticipates  justice,  and  it  is  a  striking  fact  that 
man  was  never  let  into  the  fearful  condition  into  which  his  sin  had 
brought  him,  till  deliverance  was  promised.  There  was  no  room 
left  for  the  workings  of  despair ;  for  the  curse  was  not  pronounced 
upon  the  rebellious  representatives  of  our  race  till  God  had  pledged 
his  word  that  the  seed  of  the  woman  should  bruise  the  head  of  the 
adversary  who  had  seduced  her. 

This  mercy  has  been  obtained  for  us  in  a  way  that  natural  reli- 
gion could  never  have  anticipated.  There  could  be  no  hope  that 
any  being,  however  powerful,  could  stay  the  arm  of  offended  omni- 
potence ;  neither  could  there  be  any  rational  expectation,  although 
such  an  expectation  some  have  chosen  to  indulge,  that,  by  a  sort  of 
amiable  weakness,  which  creatures  sometimes  indulge,  a  shrinkino- 
from  infliction  of  punishment  which  justice  demands,  the  Deity 
should  screen  us  from  the  misery  we  have  entailed  upon  ourselves, 
even  though  his  justice  and  his  holiness  should  suffer  by  his  compas- 
sion. "God  is  not  a  man,  that  he  should  lie,  nor  the  Son  of  man 
that  he  should  repent."  He  had  declared  that  death  was  the  inevi- 
table consequence  of  transgression  ;  and  his  mercy,  far  from  giving 
the  lie  to  his  justice,  confirms  the  sentence  of  the  law:  for  in  the 
dispensation  of  the  new  covenant,  that  truth  has  its  most  striking 
illustration ;  that,  without  a  due  satisfaction  to  injured  justice  there 
can  be  no  remission  of  sin.  It  is  the  Lawgiver,  the  Judge  himself, 
that  has  offered  us  forgiveness.  And  his  character,  as  our  Saviour, 
is  in  perfect  consistency  with  his  character,  as  our  righteous  Judge. 

"  The  Lord  saw  that  there  was  no  man,  and  he  wondered  that 
there  was  no  intercessor,  therefore  his  own  arm  brought  salvation 
unto  him,  and  his  righteousness  it  sustained  him."  God  sent  his  Son 


DISCOURSE    ON    FAITH.  351 

into  the  world,  but  it  was  not,  as  well  might  have  been  expected,  to 
condemn  the  world,  but  that  the  world  through  him  might  be  saved. 
Thus  a  free  offer  of  pardon  is  made  to  the  whole  of  a  condemned 
world ;  and  had  the  simple  truth  of  redemption  through  the  sacrifice 
of  Christ  to  every  one  that  believeth,  been  all  that  had  been  re- 
vealed, this  of  itself  would  seem  enough  to  answer  all  the  circum- 
stances of  our  lost  condition.  Could  any  one  be  acquainted  with 
such  a  truth,  and  not  speak  what  he  believed  ?  Is  not  the  simple 
belief  of  such  a  doctrine  enough  to  account  for  all  the  trials  and 
privations  that  have  been  undergone  by  the  evangelists  of  our  faith, 
in  order  to  promulgate  the  knowledge  of  this  treaty  of  reconciliation 
between  a  rebellious  world  and  its  offended  Sovereign  ? 

But  tliough  this  free  offer  of  mercy  seems  at  first  sight  to  be  suited 
to  all  the  circumstances  of  fallen  man,  we  shall  find,  on  further  in- 
quiry, that  were  this  single  doctrine  to  constitute  the  whole  of  the 
dispensation  of  mercy,  the  plan  would  be  incomplete,  and  the  Son  of 
God  might  have  come  into  our  world,  and  died  for  our  sins,  and  yet 
have  suffered  and  died  in  vain. 

Man,  by  his  fall,  became  a  sinful  being,  and  as  such,  he  has  a 
dislike  to  every  holy  principle.  We  have  already  remarked,  that  a 
revelation  of  God^s  wrath  against  sin  would  tend  only  to  harden  him 
in  his  depravity,  but  it  is  a  still  more  striking  proof  of  the  depth  of 
human  depravity,  that  even  the  offers  of  mercy  are  contemptuously 
refused.  Instead  of  the  tone  of  indignation  in  which  God  might 
have  addressed  us,  he  has  chosen  to  speak  in  accents  of  mercy,  say- 
ing, "  Look  unto  me,  and  be  ye  saved,  all  ye  ends  of  the  earth."  He 
condescends  even  to  reason  with,  to  warn  us  of  our  danger,  and  to 
entreat  us  with  more  than  a  father's  tenderness.  "  Turn  ye,  turn 
ye,  why  will  ye  die  V 

But  the  terrors  of  God's  law,  and  the  gracious  invitations  of  his 
mercy,  and  the  earnestness  of  his  warnings,  and  the  tenderness  of 
his  expostulations,  fall  equally  powerless  on  the  ear  of  infatuated 
man.     He  will  not  be  saved. 

You  see,  then,  the  necessity  of  the  doctrine  of  divine  influence,  to 
render  the  gospel  dispensation  altogether  complete,  and  suited  to  all 
the  peculiarities  of  our  lost  estate.  Without  this  influence,  not  a 
single  individual  would  accept  the  proffered  mercy  of  heaven. 

But  supposing  a  single  individual,  or  a  few  individuals,  did  accept 


352  APPENDIX." 

the  testimony,  you  can  see  that  there  would  be  no  encouragement  to 
proclaim  it  to  others.  At  first,  indeed,  if  the  message  were  truly  be- 
lieved, there  would  be  an  ardent  wish  to  communicate  to  others  the 
inestimable  blessing,  and  the  confident  expectation  that  all  would 
cling  to  the  terms  of  mercy  as  soon  as  they  were  offered.  But  how 
soon  would  the  zeal  of  the  supposed  evangelist  be  damped,  to  find 
that  the  offers  of  forgiveness  were  turned  from  with  loathing,  and 
treated  with  contempt.  How  soon  would  he  abate  his  ardour,  and 
exclaim,  as  he  sat  down  in  despair  of  benefitting  his  fellow-men,  "  I 
have  laboured  in  vain ;  I  have  spent  my  strength  for  nought  and  in 
Tain  I" 

To  make  a  new  application  of  an  illustration  sufficiently  trite : 
Were  a  building  in  flames,  and  had  you  succeeded  in  making  an 
easy  communication  between  the  ground,  and  some  part  of  the  tene- 
ment where  the  noise  of  voices  indicated  that  there  were  human  be- 
ings within  ;  you  would  naturally  suppose  that  your  benevolence  had 
effected  its  purpose.  You  would  never  dream  that  the  inmates 
would  need  to  be  persuaded  to  escape  for  their  life.  But  did  you,  in 
the  prosecution  of  your  benevolent  purpose,  actually  ascend  to  that 
part  of  the  building  whence  the  voices  issued,  there  is  nothing  ab- 
surd in  the  supposition,  that  you  might  find  the  inmates  to  be  a  com- 
pany of  bacchanalians,  who,  in  the  phrenzy  of  intoxication,  were 
alike  ignorant  of  their  danger,  and  regardless  of  your  entreaties.  It 
is  possible,  that  all  your  warnings  might  be  answered  by  the  infatu- 
ated laugh  of  intemperate  mirth,  or  even  by  the  insolent  attack  of 
some  furious  debauchee,  and  thus  might  you  find  that  all  your 
efforts  were  vain  ;  and  even  after  having  made  all  the  preparations 
for  their  deliverance  that  seemed  necessary,  you  might  find  your- 
self compelled  to  abandon  them  to  their  fate.  And  so  it  is  with  the 
men  of  this  world,  in  regard  to  the  everlasting  destruction  that  is 
hanging  over  them.  They,  too,  are  "  drunken,  though  it  be  not 
with  wine ;  and  they  stagger,  though  it  be  not  with  strong  drink." 
*'  The  spirit  of  a  deep  sleep  has  been  poured  out  upon  them,  and 
their  eyes  have  been  closed." 

You  perceive,  then,  that  without  the  pouring  out  of  the  Spirit  of 
God,  in  order  to  turn  the  hearts  of  our  apostate  race,  all  the  appa- 
ratus of  a  Saviour's  incarnation,  and  sufferings,  and  death,  might 
have  been  spent  upon  our  world  in  vain.     But,  God  be  thanked,  the 


DISCOURSE    ON    FAITH.  353 

system  of  mercy  is  complete  in  all  its  parts,  and  suited  in  every  re- 
spect to  the  circumstances  of  our  case.  The  promise  of  the  Spirit 
has  been  given,  and  in  every  individual  who  is  turned  from  dark- 
ness to  light,  we  have  a  standing  proof  that  the  promise  is  fulfilled. 

Such  is  the  system  of  truth,  which,  as  Christians,  we  profess  to 
"believe.  If  we  do  not  belie  our  profession,  we  believe  that  every 
individual  of  the  millions  that  inhabit  our  globe,  or  that  have  dwelt 
upon  its  surface  ever  since  the  beginning,  has  transgressed  the  law 
of  Jehovah.  We  believe  that  by  the  most  stupendous  sacrifice,  even 
the  humiliation  and  death  of  one  of  the  Persons  of  the  Godhead,  the 
punishment  that  is  due  to  our  deeds  has  been  averted,  and  unlimited 
pardon  procured  for  the  whole  human  race.  We  believe,  however, 
that  in  order  to  profit  by  this  general  deed  of  amnesty,  which  the 
Sovereign  of  heaven  and  earth  has  issued,  there  must  be  a  distinct 
reception  of  the  terms  of  forgiveness  on  the  part  of  an  individual 
criminal ;  and,  coupled  with  this  belief,  we  are  aware  of  the  fact, 
that,  though  it  is  now  eighteen  hundred  years  since  an  express  Mes- 
senger from  heaven  published  this  treaty  of  reconciliation  in  our 
world,  comparatively  few  have  welcomed  the  gracious  message,  and 
at  this  moment  three-fourths  of  the  population  of  our  globe  are  in 
utter  ignorance  that  such  a  message  has  ever  come. 

Do  we  believe  these  things,  my  brethren,  and  shall  we  not  speak 
what  we  believe  ?  Is  there  not  a  duty  entailed  upon  every  Christian, 
as  far  as  it  is  in  his  power,  by  the  belief  of  these  great  truths,  to 
publish  them  to  his  fellow-men  ?  And  is  there  not  a  woe  pronounced 
against  every  believer,  if,  in  as  far  as  he  has  opportunity,  he  preach 
not  the  gospel  ?  It  is  not  necessary  to  the  preaching  of  the  gospel 
that  we  pass  through  a  preparatory  course  of  science  and  literature, 
or  that  we  be  commissioned  to  do  so  by  our  fellow-men.  Nor  is  it 
necessary  to  the  preaching  of  the  gospel,  that  we  ascend  a  pulpit,  or 
be  surrounded  with  any*  of  the  apparatus  of  ordinary  parsonship.  It 
is  not  necessary  that  our  address  be  made  to  a  public  assembly  at 
all.  Nor  is  it  even  necessary,  ere  we  open  our  mouth  to  our  fellow- 
men,  that  we  work  up  a  laboured  systematic  discourse.  These 
things  may  accompany  the  preaching  of  the  gospel,  but  they  are  by 
no  means  its  necessary  accompaniments,  and  it  is  hard  to  say 
whether  this  lavish  profusion  of  human  preparation,  and  worldly 
pomp,  has  not  in  many  instances  robbed  of  their  native  dignity  and 

30* 


354  APPENDIX. 

impressiveness,  those  sublime  but  simple  truths  which  manifestly 
appear  —  "when  unadorned,  adorned  the  most."  The  preaching 
of  the  gospel,  as  imperative  upon  every  Christian,  needs  not  the  aid 
of  deep  meditation,  or  of  human  scholarship.  It  consists  in  the  sim- 
ple communication  to  others  of  the  simplest  truths.  We  may  preach 
to  the  little  family  circle  as  we  sit  in  the  house,  or  even  to  the  soli- 
tary companion  as  we  walk  by  the  way.  The  simple  belief  of  the 
gospel  is  all  that  is  necessary  to  give  us  a  title,  and  even  to  lay  us 
under  an  obligation,  to  preach  it  in  the  sense  which  I  have  explained. 
David  believed,  and  therefore  he  spoke !  Paul  believed,  and  there- 
fore he  spoke !  and  every  Christian,  having  the  same  spirit  of  faith 
which  dwelt  in  the  Psalmist  and  the  Apostle,  should  be  able  to 
adopt  their  language,  and  say,  I  also  believe,  and  therefore  speak. 
And  if,  my  brethren,  the  same  spirit  of  faith  is  working  in  us,  it 
has  not  been  the  choice  of  our  profession  that  has  laid  us  under  an 
obligation  to  preach  the  gospel ;  but  the  previously  felt  obligation 
that  has  led  us  to  make  choice  of  our  profession. 

If  we  can  conscientiously  give  it  as  the  reason  for  our  proclaiming 
the  truths  of  Christianity,  that  we  speak  because  we  believe,  our 
conduct  wnll  be  necessarily  modified  by  the  motives  that  actuate  us ; 
and  our  preaching  shall  be  of  a  very  different  kind  from  that  of  the 
mere  mercenaries  of  the  church,  or  even  from  that  of  those  who 
make  their  regular  Sabbath-day  exhibitions  merely  from  a  sense  of 
professional  duty. 

In  the  first  place,  I  remark,  that  our  motive  will  regulate  tlie  time 
of  our  preaching. 

If  it  be  merely  the  wish  to  perform  decently  the  duties  of  a  min- 
ister, which  is  our  ruling  motive,  then  we  shall,  in  all  probability, 
be  content  with  working  up  during  the  week,  as  much  matter  as  will 
enable  us  to  make  on  the  Sabbath,  two  or  three  speeches,  of  the 
ordinary  length,  according  as  the  custom  of  'our  predecessors,  or  the 
taste  of  our  congregation  may  demand.  If  a  parish  be  entrusted 
to  our  care,  we  may  in  all  probability  add  to  this  the  yearly  or  half- 
yearly  visitation  of  a  few  of  our  parishioners ;  and  if  we  be  set  over 
a  dissenting  congregation,  we  may,  perhaps,  contrive,  without  much 
risk  (if  our  discourses  happen  to  please  the  taste  of  our  hearers,) 
of  being  thought  inattentive  to  duty,  to  neglect  the  duty  of  visita- 
tion altogether. 


DISCOURSE    ON    FAITH.  355 

But  if  we  speak  because  we  believe, — if  it  be  a  decided  convic- 
tion of  the  truth  and  importance  of  the  doctrines  of  the  gospel,  and 
an  experimental  proof  of  their  soothing  and  sanctifying  influence  on 
our  own  mind,  which  inspires  us  from  a  principle  of  gratitude  to  our 
God,  and  compassion  for  our  fellow-men,  with  the  desire  to  devote 
ourselves  to  the  service  of  God  in  the  ministry  of  his  Son ;  then  our 
preaching  will  not  be  a  thing  of  set  times,  or  formal  exhibitions. 
We  shall  not,  indeed,  despise  the  established  order  of  Christian 
worship;  the  principle  that  actuates  us  will  lead  us  to  become  "all 
things  to  all  men,  if  by  any  means  we  may  save  some."  We  shall 
thus  be  glad  to  seize  those  opportunities  when  the  commandment  of 
God,  and  the  laws  and  customs  of  our  country  have  assembled  many 
together  for  the  purposes  of  religion  ;  but  our  preaching  will  not  be 
confined  to  the  public  exercises  of  the  Sabbath,  but  according  to  the 
very  solemn  charge  of  the  apostle,  we  shall  be  instant  in  preaching 
the  word,  in  season  and  out  of  season,  and  in  imitation  of  his  ex- 
ample we  shall  not  only  speak  as  we  have  opportunity  in  the  public 
places  consecrated  to  devotion,  but  also  from  house  to  house.  And 
even  the  ordinary  intercourse  that  we  carry  on  with  our  fellow-men, 
our  correspondence  with  friends  at  a  distance,  and  our  conversations 
with  companions  who  are  near,  will  alike  be  consecrated  to  those 
grand  objects  to  which  our  own  selves  are  devoted. 

But  our  motive  will  not  only  regulate  the  times  of  our  preaching, 
it  will  also  determine  the  mode  of  our  preaching. 

If  we  believe  that  the  great  object  for  which  the  gospel  was  sent 
into  our  world  was  to  effect  the  pardon  and  moral  renovation  of  man  ; 
and  if  we  believe  what  the  Scriptures  assure  us,  that  this  is  chiefly 
to  be  effected  by  faith  in  a  few  simple  elementary  doctrines,  we  shall 
dwell  much  upon  these  doctrines,  and  ever  make  them  the  theme  of 
our  discourse. 

If  we  are  assured  that  he  who  believes  in  Jesus  Christ  shall  be 
saved,  we  shall  determine,  like  the  early  promulgators  of  the  faith, 
to  know  nothing  among  men,  but  Jesus  Christ,  and  him  crucified: 
we  shall  not  preach  ourselves,  but  Christ  Jesus  the  Lord,  and  our- 
selves the  servants  of  all,  for  Jesus'  sake. 

If,  again,  we  believe  that  the  same  Spirit  which  breathed  life  into 
the  dry  bones  of  the  prophet's  vision,  must  still  exert  his  vivifying 
energy,  ere  a  single  sinner  can  be  raised  from  a  death  in  trespasses 


S56  APPENDIX. 

and  ains,  to  newness  of  life ;  and  if  we  further  believe  that  the  Spi- 
rit is  the  gift  of  prayer,  we  shall  be  ardent  in  our  supplications  at 
the  throne  of  grace,  for  the  out-pouring  of  that  mysterious  influence, 
which,  though  itself  unseen,  is  so  visible  in  its  effects,  and  without 
which  the  most  splendid  eloquence,  and  the  most  cogent  reasoning 
can  absolutely  effect  nothing. 

Finally,  our  motive  will  also,  to  a  certain  extent,  determine  the 
spliere  of  our  labours. 

If  we  believe  that  there  is  one  broad  line  which  separates  men 
into. two  distinct  classes,  —  those  who  believe,  and  those  who  do  not; 
those  consequently  who  have  obtained  pardon,  and  those  who  are 
still  under  condemnation — we  shall  esteem  it  a  matter  of  infinitely 
greater  importance  to  lead  an  individual  across  that  boundary,  than 
to  lead  an  individual  who  has  already  past  it  a  few  steps  further  on 
in  his  progress.  The  building  up  of  believers  is,  no  doubt,  a  most 
important  work ;  but  still  we  cannot  help  thinking,  that  it  must 
yield  in  importance  to  the  work  of  conversion. 


H. 

ON  NATURAL  RELIGION. 


In  the  Bible  we  are  told,  that,  at  the  final  judgment,  all  men  will 
be  made  the  subjects  of  an  equitable  moral  reckoning.  But  we 
know,  from  the  history  of  our  species,  that  there  have  been,  and  that 
there  still  are  in  the  world,  thousands  who  have  never  had  access  to 
that  revelation  from  Heaven  with  which  we  have  been  favoured.  It 
becomes  then  an  interesting  inquiry,  how  far  the  natural  light  of 
reason  can  render  men  the  fit  subjects  of  a  moral  reckoning ;  and 
how,  in  such  a  condition  there  can  be  any  distinction  between  the 
godly  and  the  ungodly.  In  that  record,  which  hath  come  from 
Heaven,  it  is  said,  in  reference  to  such  individuals,  that  "God  hath 
showed  unto  them  that  which  may  be  known  of  himself,  because  the 
invisible  things  of  him  from  the  creation  of  the  world,  are  clearly 


ESSAY    ON    NATURAL    RELIGION.  857 

seen,  being  understood  by  the  things  that  are  made,  even  his  eternal 
power  and  Godhead :  so  that  they  are  without  excuse/^  In  other 
words,  it  is  affirmed  that  those  who  have  never  had  access  to  any 
direct  communication  from  Heaven,  are  yet  accountable  for  their 
deeds,  inasmuch  as  the  existence  and  the  character  of  God  may  be 
gathered  from  the  works  which  he  has  made.  And  it  is  thus  that 
there  may  be  a  distinction  between  those  who  have  been  led  by  these 
dim  intimations  of  his  presence,  to  grope,  though  in  the  dark,  after 
their  Creator;  and  those,  who,  notwithstanding  these  intimations, 
*'  have  said  in  their  heart,  that  there  is  no  God."  When  God  looked 
down  from  heaven  upon  the  children  of  men,  it  was  to  see  if  there 
were  any  that  did  understand,  —  if  there  were  any  that  did  seek 
after  God. 

The  evidence  for  the  existence  of  a  God  is  so  manifest  in  all  his 
works,  that  there  have  scarcely  been  found  any  people,  however  igno- 
rant and  degraded,  who  have  not  recognized,  in  the  objects  that  are 
around  them,  the  traces  of  a  designing  and  intelligent  Creator.  The 
marks  of  design  are  evident  in  the  combinations  and  processes  of 
inanimate  nature.  We  can  see  them  in  the  harmonious  revolutions 
of  those  vast  globes  which  compose  the  universe.  We  can  see  them 
in  the  varied  operation  of  those  elements  which  are  at  work  upon 
the  surface  of  our  earth;  in  the  regular  succession  of  summer  and 
winter,  spring-time  and  harvest.  We  behold  them  in  the  descend- 
ing shower  which  refreshes  the  soil,  and  in  the  ascending  vapour 
which  feeds  the  mighty  cisterns  from  whence  that  shower  was  poured. 
And  still  more  palpably  do  we  recognize  the  traces  of  intelligence 
in  the  structure  and  physiology  of  the  vegetable  kingdom.  In  those 
roots  which  fix  the  plant  in  the  soil,  and  collect  for  it  its  nutritive 
juices;  in  those  tubes  by  which  these  juices  are  conveyed  through 
all  its  various  branches ;  in  those  leaves  which  cover  and  protect 
the  infant  bud,  and  die  away  again  when  the  seed  is  ripened ;  in 
those  autumnal  breezes  which  scatter  the  seeds  on  the  bosom  of  the 
earth,  there  to  spring  up  in  their  turn,  and  to  become  distinct  mem- 
bers of  the  vegetable  family — in  all  this  varied  conformation  of 
parts,  and  succession  of  agents,  can  we  distinctly  perceive  the  adap- 
tation of  means  to  an  end ;  an  adaptation  which  must  have  been 
the  result  of  contemplation  and  design.  But  it  is  in  animated  na- 
ture that  we  have  the  most  striking  proofs  of  the  existence  of  an  ia- 


358  APPENDIX. 

telHgent  Creator.  In  the  structure  of  the  bodies  of  animals  the 
marks  of  design  are  so  manifold,  that  the  simple  enumeration  of 
them  would  far  exceed  our  limits.  In  the  structure  of  the  eye  alone, 
they  are  sufficiently  numerous  for  our  purpose.  It  is  arched  over 
with  an  eye-brow  to  carry  off  from  it  the  moistures  of  the  head.  It 
is  furnished  with  an  eye-lid,  which  washes  and  moistens  it,  which 
covers  it  in  sleep,  which  protects  it  when  awake,  spontaneously  shut- 
ting on  the  approach  of  danger.  Its  optical  adaptations  are  still 
more  striking.  It  has  its  levers,  which  shift  backward  and  forward, 
and  which,  without  the  will,  or  even  the  knowledge  of  him  who  pos- 
sesses it,  suit  themselves  to  the  distance  of  the  object  on  which  he 
gazes.  In  like  manner,  by  the  enlargement  or  contraction  of  its 
orifice,  does  the  eye  adapt  itself  to  the  degree  of  light  that  is  around 
it,  by  a  mechanism  which  baffles  the  imitation  of  human  ingenuity, 
and  even  mocks  the  scrutiny  of  anatomical  investigation.  Nor  is 
the  internal  physiology  of  animals  less  indicative  of  design  than  the 
external  organization  of  their  bodies.  We  might  enumerate,  as 
examples,  the  preparation  and  distribution  of  the  various  secretions, 
■which  either  moisten  the  eye,  or  which  lubricate  the  joints ;  or 
which  supply  that  stream  of  circulation  whose  ebbings  and  Sowings 
are  the  mystic  indication  of  animal  life ;  in  short,  all  the  varied  and 
multifarious  processes  which  are  going  on  in  the  laboratory  that  is 
within  us. 

These  are  but  a  few  of  the  indications  inscribed  upon  the  face  of 
nature,  which  point  to  nature's  God.  And  it  were  indeed  strange 
if  man,  with  all  these  evidences  of  design,  should  never  think  of  an 
intelligent  Designer.  Nor  has  it  been  so.  All  have  recognized 
these  proofs  of  a  Divinity.  The  most  ignorant  and  barbarous  na- 
tions on  the  face  of  the  earth,  have  imagined  for  themselves  (how- 
ever degrading  and  incongruous  their  imaginations  may  have  been), 
some  great  and  intelligent  Being  who  made  the  heavens  and  the 
earth.  It  is  not  among  the  rude  and  ignorant  sons  of  barbarism, 
that  we  are  to  look  for  those  who  have  denied  the  existence  of  a  God. 
Atheism  is  an  unnatural  crime  ;  and  we  must  look  for  its  manifesta- 
tions chiefly  among  those  who  have  been  bewildered  by  the  specula- 
tions of  an  unnatural  philosophy. 

The  natural  attributes  of  God  seem  to  follow  as  corollaries  to  the 
demonstration  of  his  existence.     Every  one  must  admit,  that,  if  there 


ESSAY    ON    NATURAL    RELIGION.  359 

be  a  Being  who  made  these  heavens,  and  this  earth,  and  all  that  is 
in  them,  he  must  be  a  Being  of  infinite  might.  We  at  once  conclude, 
that  lie  who  gave  the  sea  its  bounds,  that  it  should  not  pass  his  de- 
cree, must  be  very  powerful ;  that  He  who  counts  the  number  of  the 
stars,  and  guides  them  in  their  courses  must  be  very  great ;  that  He 
•who  binds  them  to  their  orbits  by  the  simple  law  of  gravitation, 
must  be  very  wise. 

So  far  our  way  has  been  smooth  and  even,  and  the  steps  of  the 
demonstration  have  been  of  easy  ascent;  but  it  is  when  we  begin  to 
consider  the  moral  attributes  of  Deity,  that  we  feel  our  progress  im- 
peded by  many  obstructions.  It  is  here  that  we  begin  to  perceive 
the  insuJOficiency  of  the  light  of  nature.  It  is  when  we  begin  to  look 
around  amid  the  works  of  God  for  the  proofs  of  his  goodness  and  his 
justice,  that  we  feel  ourselves  bewildered  and  confounded.  Yet 
some  proofs  of  these  there  must  exist  independent  of  that  revelation 
which  God  has  made  known  to  some  of  his  creatures,  or  we  cannot 
see  how  those  who  have  never  heard  of  this  revelation  are  at  all  ac- 
countable for  their  actions.  For  aught  that  we  have  yet  proved.  He 
who  formed  with  such  exquisite  skill,  and  such  infinite  power,  these 
heavens  and  this  earth,  may  after  all  care  nothing  for  the  beings  he 
has  made.  He  may  sit  in  cold  abstraction  upon  the  throne  of  his 
majesty,  regardless  of  the  intelligent  creatures  he  hath  formed.  He 
may  have  required  nothing  at  their  hand,  and  in  consequence  it  mav 
not  be  their  duty  to  render  aught  to  him.  Or,  he  who  reigns  over 
the  monarchy  of  the  universe,  may,  notwithstanding  his  greatness, 
and  his  power,  and  his  wisdom,  be  a  demon  of  malignant  influence ; 
and  however  fearful  our  situation  under  such  a  conjecture,  it  may  be 
our  duty  to  resist  his  every  commandment.  In  order  that  all  men 
may  be  accountable  before  God,  even  natural  religion  must  furnish 
some  clue  to  the  ascertaining  of  these  uncertainties.  And  we  con- 
ceive that  it  does  so,  though  not  in  the  way  that  has  usually  been 
represented. 

It  has  been  usual  with  the  expounders  of  natural  theism  to  sum 
up  all  the  misery  that  is  to  be  found  in  the  world,  and  having  placed 
it  in  counterpoise  with  the  happiness  which  we  also  find  there,  to  pro- 
nounce the  Deity  benevolent  or  malignant  as  the  one  scale  or  the 
other  preponderates.  They  have  represented  to  us  the  many  hours  of 
health  we  enjoy  for  one  hour  of  sickness ;  and  the  many  difierent 


360  APPENDIX. 

circumstances  that  must  meet  ere  we  can  enjoy  one  hour  of  ease. 
And  they  have  told  of  the  happiness  of  the  inferior  animals,  and 
have  instanced  the  countless  shoals  of  happy  ephemerae  which  dance 
with  joy  in  the  meridian  sunbeam.  Now  we  can  see  that  this  is  aa 
argument  for  comparative  benevolence,  but  we  cannot  see  it  to  be 
an  argument  for  perfect  goodness.  It  proves  that  our  Creator  is  not 
a  devil,  but  it  does  not  prove  him  to  be  a  God.  It  may  be  true  that 
we  enjoy  hundreds  of  hours  of  health  for  one  hour  of  sickness;  but 
why  this  one  hour  of  sickness  ?  Our  natural  theist  should  remem- 
ber too,  that  health  is  not  all  that  is  necessary  to  constitute  happi- 
ness. "Why  is  it  that  not  a  day  passes  over  our  head,  but  brings 
with  it  something  to  mar  our  enjoyment,  some  painful  affront,  some 
boding  fear,  some  disappointed  hope  ?  And  when  they  point  to  the 
happiness  of  the  inferior  creation,  they  would  do  well  to  remember 
the  ravages  of  death.  Do  they  forget,  that  fur  those  numberless 
myriads  of  insects  which  sport  so  blithely  in  the  noontide  sun ; 
myriads  as  numberless  have,  since  lie  made  the  circuit  of  the  hea- 
vens, struggled  in  the  throes  of  dissolution  ?  Why  this  mixture  of 
misery  with  happiness,  if  God  be  altogether  benevolent? 

These  objections  did  not  fail  to  present  themselves  to  the  minds 
of  our  academic  theists,  and  accordingly  they  have  made  an  attempt 
to  meet  them.  They  have  feigned  for  themselves  some  delightful 
region  beyond  the  grave,  where  there  will  be  happiness  without 
alloy,  and  where  the  miseries  of  life  will  be  merged  and  forgotten 
amid  the  joys  of  a  blissful  eternity.  We  say,  "  have  feigned  for 
themselves ;"  for,  on  coming  to  examine  their  grounds  of  belief  in 
the  existence  of  a  future  state,  we  find  that  the  opinion  has  no 
foundation  but  in  the  assumed  goodness  of  the  Deity,  the  very  point 
they  have  employed  it  to  prove.  But  passing  for  the  present  this 
defect  in  their  reasoning,  we  cannot  see  how  a  futurity  of  happiness, 
though  established  on  the  surest  evidence,  can  at  all  make  out  their 
case.  The  question  still  recurs.  Why  a  state  of  mixed  enjoyment  at 
all?  Why  a  single  moment  of  imperfect  felicity  under  the  govern- 
ment of  a  benevolent  God?  Would  it  be  deemed  a  sufficient  excuse 
for  the  cruelty  of  an  earthly  parent  to  his  infant  son,  that  when  that 
son  had  grown  to  manhood,  the  father  had  done  all  in  his  power  to 
promote  his  happiness?  And  can  it  be  thought  a  sufficient  vindica- 
tion of  the  character  of  him  who  is  called  the  Father  of  our  spirits, 


ESSAY    ON    NATURAL    RELIGION.  8G1 

that  although  he  hath  made  us  miserable  upon  earth,  he  will  not 
make  us  miserable  in  heaven  ? 

Notwithstanding  this  anomaly  in  the  moral  government  of  God, 
and  notwithstanding  the  weakness  of  the  reasoning  on  which  the 
argument  for  his  goodness  has  been  founded,  there  is  a  strong  intui- 
tive belief  in  the  minds  of  his  intelligent  creatures,  that  God  is  good 
and  that  the  Judge  of  all  the  earth  will  do  rightly.  So  strong  is 
this  inherent  faith  in  the  divine  goodness,  and  so  abhorrent  to  the 
mind  of  man  is  the  thought  of  a  malignant  God,  that  rather  than 
accede  to  the  monstrous  proposition  that  the  Divinity  is  wicked,  men 
have  chosen  to  struggle  against  the  most  palpable  demonstrations  of 
their  senses,  and  have  acceded  to  the  equally  monstrous  proposition 
that  there  is  no  Divinity  at  all. 

Whence  springs  this  deep-rooted  and  almost  universal  belief  in 
divine  benevolence  and  justice?  We  conceive  it  to  be  the  result  of 
that  constitution  of  our  nature  by  which  conscience  has  the  supre- 
macy in  the  kingdom  that  is  within  us.  It  seems  a  just  conclusion, 
that  had  he  been  a  spirit  of  demoniac  malignity,  or  of  aught  but 
perfect  righteousness,  who  built  our  frame,  he  never  would  have 
placed  within  us  a  monitor  to  reproach  us  for  our  vice,  and  to 
whisper  approbation  to  our  deeds  of  virtue. 

This  seems  the  only  satisfactory  evidence,  independent  of  revela- 
tion, for  the  moral  perfections  of  the  Deity.  It  does  not  resolve  the 
anomaly  of  his  moral  government,  but  it  may  lead  to  the  resolution 
of  it.  It  does  not  satisfy,  but  it  may  stimulate  to  inquiry.  And 
who  can  fix  the  limit  which  must  bound  the  discoveries  of  the  pious 
inquirer  on  this  subject,  who  has  nought  but  the  glimmering  of  na- 
ture's light  to  guide  his  footsteps  ?  Even  he  may  come  to  perceive 
that  there  is  an  indissoluble  union  between  vice  and  wretchedness, 
and  that  the  misery  which  exists  in  our  world  is  casually  connected 
with  the  moral  evil  which  is  also  found  there. 

But  this  same  constitution  of  our  nature,  which  proves  the  moral 
attributes  of  God,  tells  us  also  of  our  connection  with  him,  by  reveal- 
ing to  us  what  he  hath  required  of  us.  And  thus  it  is  that  all  men 
become,  to  a  certain  degree,  acquainted  with  the  law  of  God,  and 
are  consequently  the  fit  subjects  of  a  moral  reckoning.  It  is  thus 
that  "the  Gentiles  not  having  the  (revealed)  law,  are  a  law  unto 
themselves :  who  show  the  work  of  the  law  written  in  their  hearts, 
31 


362  APPENDIX. 

their  conscience  also  bearing  witness,  and  their  thoughts  the  mean 
while  accusing,  or  excusing  one  another?"  If  a  man  thus  perceive 
the  moral  perfections  of  God,  and  if  he  compare  his  own  doings  with 
the  requirements  of  his  conscience,  he  must  find  that  he  has  come 
short  of  the  law  of  God ;  and  he  will  wistfully  look  for  a  way  of 
reconciliation. 

This  is  the  state  in  which  natural  religion  leaves  its  votaries ;  but, 
unfortunately,  it  is  not  the  state  in  which  academic  theists  have 
usually  left  their  disciples.  They  have  been  desirous  of  solving 
those  difficulties  in  which  their  science  places  them,  and  they  have 
done  so  by  making  a  most  degrading  compromise  between  the  good- 
ness and  the  justice  of  the  Deity,  by  representing  God  to  be  such  a 
one  as  ourselves. 

There  are  two  grand  desiderata  in  which  natural  religion  lands  its 
disciples.  The  one  is  to  effect  a  reconciliation  between  the  benevo- 
lence of  the  Deity,  and  the  misery  that  exists  among  his  creatures. 
The  other  is  to  effect  a  reconciliation  between  the  mercy  and  the 
justice  of  God,  in  the  pardon  of  those  who  have  transgressed  his 
law.  The  solution  of  these  two  desiderata,  constitutes  the  grand 
design  of  that  revelation  which  God  hath  given  us.  And  it  is  thus 
that  the  humble  disciple  of  natural  religion  is  in  the  best  state  of 
preparation  for  the  faith  of  the  gospel.  He  is  there  told,  that  the 
misery  which  exists  in  our  world,  is  the  fruit  of  moral  evil:  that 
"  by  one  man  sin  entered  into  the  world,  and  death  by  sin  ;  and  so 
death  hath  passed  upon  all  men,  for  that  all  have  sinned."  There, 
too,  he  is  told  of  a  Mediator,  who  hath  suffered  in  the  room  of  the 
guilty,  and  he  can  thus  perceive  how  God  is  just,  yet  not  at  the  ex- 
pense of  his  goodness ;  merciful,  yet  not  by  a  degrading  compromise 
of  his  justice. 

This  revelation  has  made  manifest  all  that  relates  to  ourselves, 
but  it  has  not  made  manifest  all  that  relates  to  God.  "With  regard 
to  the  second  desideratum,  (the  way  of  our  acceptance  with  God), 
it  is  clear  and  perspicuous:  but  with  regard  to  the  first,  (the  recon- 
ciliation between  the  divine  goodness  and  the  misery  of  his  crea- 
tures), it  has  thrown  a  light  across  the  darkness,  but  it  has  not  per- 
fectly illumined  it.  It  has  shifted  the  difficulty,  but  it  has  not  en- 
tirely removed  it.  It  tells  us  that  misery  is  the  result  of  moral  evil; 
but  with  regard  to  the  origin  of  evil,  it  is  altogether  silent.     It  an- 


ESSAY   ON   THE    CONDITION   OF   SOCIETY.    363 

Swers  the  objection,  "Why  does  he  yet  find  fault,  for  who  hath  re- 
sisted his  will?"  by  reminding  us  of  our  ignorance,  and  our  weak- 
ness ;  "  Nay,  but,  0  man,  who  ai*t  thou  that  repliest  against  God  ?" 
The  Bible  was  not  intended  to  present  us  with  a  full  development 
of  the  divine  character ;  but  only  to  make  known  to  us  so  much  cf 
that  character  as  affects  our  own  acceptance  with  the  Deity.  It  was 
not  meant  to  be  a  sun  from  whence  might  emanate  a  full  illumina- 
tion to  reveal  every  object  around  us,  but  it  was  given  us  as  a  lamp  to 
guide  our  own  footsteps  through  the  darkness  of  nature.  The  Day 
Star,  it  is  true,  hath  arisen  upon  us,  and  "  our  path  is  as  the  shin- 
ing light,  which  shineth  more  and  more  unto  the  perfect  day ;"  but 
the  day  itself  hath  not  yet  dawned.  Here  we  see  as  through  a  glass, 
darkly,  and  know  but  in  part :  but  we  look  forward  to  a  period  of 
clearer  revelation,  when  there  shall  beam  forth  upon  us  a  brighter 
display  of  the  Divine  attributes  in  all  their  harmony.  And  then 
shall  we  see  "face  to  face,  and  know  even  as  we  are  known." 

I  shall  be.  excused  from  giving  my  opinion  of  this  production, 
when  I  quote  the  following  sentence  annexed  to  it,  in  the  hand- 
writing of  Dr.  Chalmers  : — ''An  Essay  of  surp-a.ssing  worth,  as 
have  been  all  the  other  compositions  of  its  author  in  the  Moral 
Philosophy  Class." 


I. 

PRIZE  ESSAY  ON  THE  MUTUAL  INFLUENCES  AND  AFFINITIES, 
WHICH  OBTAIN  BETWEEN  THE  MORAL  AND  THE  ECONOMIC 
CONDITION  OF  SOCIETY. 

AYiTH  those  who  wish  to  prove  from  natural  religion,  the  existence 
of  a  state  of  retribution,  beyond  the  grave,  the  unequal  distribution 
of  rewards  and  punishments  in  the  present  life,  has  always  been  a 
favourite  argument.  Such  individuals  have  usually  placed  before 
us,  in  strongest  colouring,  that  success  which  sometimes  crowns  the 


364  APPENDIX. 

fraudulent  schemes  of  the  vicious  ;  which  they  have  rendered  douhly 
impressive,  by  contrasting  it  with  those  unforeseen  calamities,  which 
BO  often,  in  this  world  of  uncertainty,  crush  the  most  strenuous  exer- 
tions of  aspiring  virtue.  In  order  to  reconcile  this  seeming  injus- 
tice with  the  assumed  goodness  of  the  Deity,  they  argue  that  tlie-rc 
must  be  some  future  state  of  existence,  where  a  recompense  shall  be 
rendered  to  the  virtuous  for  all  his  sufferings  on  earth  ;  and  where 
that  vengeance,  which  has  been  long  delayed,  shall  at  last  overtake, 
and  utterly  overwhelm  the  vicious. 

Now,  though  we  perfectly  agree  with  those  who  thus  reason,  and 
think  that  their  conclusions  are  most  legitimately  deducible  from 
the  premises,  yet  we  cannot  help  the  conviction  that  they  have 
somewhat  overstrained  their  argument,  and  that  in  their  zeal  to 
prove  that  the  present  life  is  but  a  state  of  probation,  they  have 
sometimes  represented  the  moral  government  of  God  in  our  world, 
as  more  deranged,  and  further  from  equity  than  actually  is  the  case. 
Notwithstanding  all  that  has  been  advanced  to  the  contrary,  we 
think  we  are  entitled,  from  the  strongest  historical  evidence,  to  be- 
lieve that  the  proverb,  though  not  universally,  yet  very  generally, 
holds  true,  even  when  we  confine  our  regards  to  man's  present  exist- 
ence, that  virtue  is  her  own  reward,  and  that  vice  involves  its  own 
punishment;  or,  in  other  words,  that  there  is  a  very  intimate  con- 
nection between  a  man's  moral  character,  and  his  economic  circum- 
stances. Idleness  and  vice  are,  with  few  exceptions,  the  harbingers 
of  disease  and  misery,  while  sobriety  and  industry  seldom  fail  to 
procure  for  their  possessor,  respectability  and  comfort.  So  that  we 
shall  in  general  find,  that  if  a  virtuous  man  come  to  ruin,  it  is  not 
because  of,  but  in  spite  of  his  virtue ;  and  that  on  the  other  hand,  if 
a  vicious  man  prosper,  it  is  not  because  of,  but  in  spite  of  his  im- 
morality. And  these  remarks  are  not  only  consonant  to  experience 
and  sound  philosophy,  but  they  also  receive  additional  ci  nfiimation 
from  the  announcements  of  revelation,  which  ever  describes  moral 
evil  as  the  sole  cause  of  all  the  misery  that  is  to  be  found  in  our 
world ;  and  which  holds  out  to  him  who  is  obedient  to  its  precepts, 
the  promise  of  the  life  which  now  is,  as  well  as  of  that  life  which  is 
to  come. 

But  if  these  remarks  hold,  generally,  with  regard  to  individuals, 
they  are  still  more  universally  true  when  applied  to  nations.    An 


ESSAY   ON   THE   CONDITION   OF   SOCIETY.    365 

individual  may  get  rich  by  fraud  and  injustice ;  but  we  know  of  no 
vice  that  can  aggrandize  a  nation.  Some  unforeseen  calamity,  on 
the  other  hand,  may  overwhelm  the  most  virtuous  individual ;  but 
we  know  not  of  any  obstacle  which  can  impede  the  rising  greatness 
of  a  country,  whose  inhabitants  are  sober  and  industrious,  and 
which  is  governed  with  justice  and  liberality.  So  that  we  may 
safely  aver,  if  not  of  individuals,  at  least  of  communities,  that  there 
is  a  very  close  and  intimate  connection  between  their  moral,  and 
their  economic  condition. 

To  point  out  a  few  of  the  mutual  influences  and  affinities  which 
obtain  between  the  moral  and  the  economic  condition  of  mankind, 
will,  therefore,  be  the  object  of  the  following  observations.  And 
we  shall  consider  the  subject;  First,  As  it  may  be  illustrated  in 
savage  life,  and  in  the  subsequent  progress  of  a  community  from 
barbarism  to  refinement.  And,  secondly,  In  its  relation  to  civilized 
society. 

The  most  degraded  condition  in  which  we  can  suppose  human 
beings  to  be  placed,  and  that  in  which  man  most  nearly  resembles 
the  animals  of  the  inferior  creation,  is  that  condition  in  which  there 
is  no  mental  culture,  no  moral  instruction  whatever.  As  this  is  the 
lowest  condition  in  which  a  community  c-an  be  placed  in  point  of 
morals,  so  is  it  the  lowest  in  point  of  economic  comfort.  The  untu- 
tored savage  comes  into  the  world,  and  feels  himself  actuated  by 
certain  appetites  and  passions,  which,  as  he  has  never  been  taught 
to  restrain,  he  makes  it  his  sole  employment  to  gratify.  His  present 
wants  occupy  so  much  of  his  attention,  that  he  seldom  thinks  of 
making  provision  for  those  that  are  future.  His  subsistence,  there- 
fore, consists  entirely  in  the  spontaneous  productions  of  the  earth 
and  the  sea ;  in  the  animals  which  he  can  succeed  in  capturing,  and 
in  the  scanty  fruits  which  the  soil  may  produce  without  the  labour 
of  human  hands.  The  latter  are  so  insignificant  that  they  can 
scarcely  be  taken  into  account ;  and  accordingly,  we  find,  that  fishing, 
and  the  chase,  constitute,  in  general,  the  sole  employments  of  nations 
sunk  in  this  lowest  state  of  barbarism. 

Nothing  can  be  more  uncertain,  however,  than  the  returns  which 
such  occupations  yield ;  and  the  savage  htas  too  little  foresight  to 
make  the  success  of  one  expedition  compensate  for  the  failure  of  an- 
other.    If  he  catch  a  deer,  he  does  not  think  of  laying  up  part  of  it 

31* 


366  APPENDIX. 

against  the  emergencies  of  future  bad  fortune,  "but  proceeds  forth- 
with to  gratify  the  voracious  appetite  of  himself  and  his  family, 
which  has  in  all  likelihood,  been  whetted  by  long  fasting,  or  by  a 
long  succession  of  scanty  meals.  After  he  has  thus  profusely  wasted 
his  whole  stock  of  provisions,  he  must  again  fast,  perhaps  for  days, 
or  support  existence  by  means  of  the  few  miserable  berries  which 
the  woods  can  afford  him,  till  another  deer  falls  in  his  way,  when 
the  same  scene  of  gluttony  takes  place,  and  the  same  course  of 
misery  follows.  If  another  has  been  more  successful  than  himself, 
his  sense  of  justice  is  by  far  too  weak  to  deter  him  from  satisfying 
the  cravings  of  a  famished  appetite  at  whatever  expense.  He  will 
not  hesitate  to  fight  with  his  enemy  for  the  sake  of  the  animals  ho 
may  have  caught,  or  even,  in  some  instances,  to  murder  him  for  the 
sake  of  the  horrid  repast  which  his  flesh  may  furnish.  A  want  of 
the  necessaries  of  life  is  said  to  be  the  cause  of  those  bloody  conten- 
tions which  are  ever  bursting  forth  among  savage  tribes.  And  the 
cruel  and  merciless  nature  of  that  warfiro  may  be  imagined,  where 
the  contest  is  not,  as  among  civilized  nations,  for  some  imaginary 
honour,  or  for  some  disputable  territory ;  but,  where  the  prize  of 
victory  consists  in  the  flesh  of  the  vanquished.  It  is  only  necessary 
to  take  into  account  the  element  of  population,  in  order  to  complete 
this  revolting  picture  of  human  wretchedness.  If  the  savage  has 
not  foresight  enough  to  provide  for  his  own  wants,  it  is  not  likely 
that  he  will  be  more  careful  to  provide  for  the  wants  of  his  family. 
In  such  a  state  of  society  there  can  be  no  moral  restraint  to  keep  the 
population  within  the  bounds  of  an  uncertain  and  scanty  subsist- 
ence :  these  bounds,  however,  it  cannot  exceed,  and  we  may  look  for 
the  positive  checks  which  restrain  it,  in  those  extirpating  wars  to 
which  we  have  already  alluded,  as  well  as  in  the  licentious  and  im- 
pure habits  of  savages,  and  in  those  famines  and  pestilential  dis- 
eases which  are  occasioned  by  their  wretched  mode  of  life. 

In  this  state  of  things  we  may  suppose  that  some  savage,  who  had 
often  experienced  the  miseries  of  extreme  want,  bethinks  himself 
of  laying  up  part  of  the  provisions  which  he  has  caught  to-day,  to 
insure  against  the  uncertainty  of  to-morrow's  expedition.  We  may 
suppose  that  he  feels  the  benefit  of  this  new  arrangement,  and  that, 
in  consequence,  he  continues  it.  There  may  thus  originate  in  the 
mind  of  the  savage,  a  sense  of  property.     Savage,  though  he  be,  he 


ESSAY   ON   THE    CONDITION   OF   SOCIETY.    3G7 

is  yet  man  ;  and  on  man,  even  in  this  most  degraded  of  all  condi- 
tions, may  that  rule  of  universal  application  have  some  influence, 
"As  ye  would  that  others  should  do  unto  you,  do  ye  even  so  to 
them."  From  a  feeling  of  attachment  to  his  own  property,  and  a 
wish  to  defend  it  from  the  attacks  of  his  neighbour,  may  he  learn  to 
have  respect  for  the  property  of  others ;  and  thus,  from  a  sense  of 
property,  may  there  emerge  a  sense  of  justice. 

This,  however,  is  an  important  step  in  the  progress  of  morality ; 
and  we  shall  find  that  it  is  immediately  followed  by  a  step  as  im- 
portant in  the  march  of  economic  improvement. 

An  example  has  been  shown  of  the  good  effects  of  foresight,  and 
property  is  now  in  some  degree  regarded ;  it  therefore  becomes  a 
general  custom  among  the  savages  to  hoard  up  the  overplus  of  a 
successful  hunting  or  fishing  expedition,  in  order  to  insure  against 
future  emergencies.  By  and  by  they  perceive,  that,  if  they  can  but 
keep  the  cattle  which  they  take,  alive,  they  thus  acquire  a  kind  of 
property,  which  not  only  furnishes  a  safeguard  against  future  want, 
but  which  has  also  this  peculiar  advantage,  that  it  is  continually  in- 
creasing. In  a  little  time  they  find  that  this  live  stock,  which  is 
kept  at  home,  multiplies  so  rapidly,  as  not  only  to  enable  them  to 
bear  out  against  the  failure  of  a  single  expedition  in  fishing  or  the 
chase,  but  to  render  them  independent  of  fishing  and  the  chase  alto- 
gether. Though  they  can  now  live  without  engaging  in  the  toils  of 
their  old  occupations,  and  are  no  longer  obliged  to  roam  through  the 
woods  in  search  of  subsistence,  yet  they  are  by  no  means  idle ;  their 
increasing  flocks  and  herds  demand  every  day  more  and  more  of 
their  attention.  Instead  of  hunters  and  fishers,  they  now  become 
shepherds ;  and,  to  a  state  of  most  degraded  barbarism,  there  now 
succeeds  the  pastoral  condition,  greatly  more  improved  indeed  than 
the  former,  yet  still  very  far  removed  from  a  state  of  perfect  civili- 
zation. 

The  pastoral  condition  is  one  that  has  been  a  favourite  theme  with 
the  poets  of  every  age  and  nation  ;  and  in  their  writings  it  has  been 
pictured  forth  as  a  state  of  purest  simplicity  and  most  perfect  inno- 
cence. Green  fields,  and  flowing  streams,  and  cattle  browsing  upon 
their  banks,  furnish  indeed  very  beautiful  imagery  for  poetry,  and 
naturally  lead  us  to  imagine  how  simple,  and  how  innocent  their 
manners  must  be,  who  are  conversant  with  objects  so  pure  and  so 


368  APPENDIX. 

peaceful.  But  there  is  a  fearful  contrast  between  the  face  of  exter- 
nal nature,  and  the  heart  of  man.  The  curse  that  was  pronounced 
upon  the  ground,  hath  still  left  many  a  lovely  trace  of  Eden  behind 
it ;  but  that  withering  blight  which  hath  gone  forth  over  the  face  of 
our  moral  scenery,  hath  left  scarce  a  vestige  in  our  world,  of  prim^- 
aeval  sanctity  and  justice. 

Notwithstanding  all  that  has  been  said  or  sung  about  the  happi- 
ness, and  the  innocence  of  the  pastoral  state,  it  seems  to  stand  in 
the  scale  of  morality  and  civilization  just  where  we  have  placed  it, 
at  a  very  small  distance  from  the  grossest  barbarism. 

When  once  a  number  of  savages  have  turned  from  the  ruder  occu- 
pations of  fishing  and  the  chase,  to  the  tending  of  cattle,  they  find 
that  the  fodder  of  the  place  where  they  dwell  is  soon  consumed. 
They  are  thus  obliged  to  proceed  in  search  of  new  pasture  ground, 
which  again  is  soon  exhausted  and  left  in  its  turn.  In  this  wander- 
ing condition  they  find  it  necessary  to  form  little  bands  or  tribes, 
both  for  the  purpose  of  self-defence,  and  also  to  enable  them  to  ex- 
tirpate or  expel  from  their  territories,  the  inhabitants  of  such  dis- 
tricts, as  may  seem  most  fit  to  be  converted  into  pasture  ground  for 
their  cattle.  The  morality  of  these  pastoral  tribes  seems  much  akin 
to  that  which  is  generally  to  be  met  with  in  a  band  of  highwaymen, 
who  must  necessarily  keep  up  some  semblance  of  justice  among 
themselves,  but  whose  business  it  is  to  plunder  everybody  that  does 
not  belong  to  their  gang.  This  character  but  ill  accords  with  that 
which  is  assigned  to  them  in  the  high-wrought  descriptions  of  pas- 
toral poetry  ;  but  unfortunately  it  is  their  real  one.  Mr.  Malthus, 
in  his  work  on  population,  describes  the  Scythian  shepherds,  as  ac- 
tuated by  a  most  savage  and  destructive  spirit;  and  as  an  exempli- 
fication of  this,  he  tells  us  that  "  when  the  Moguls  had  subdued  the 
northern  provinces  of  China,  it  was  proposed,  in  calm  and  deliberate 
council,  to  exterminate  all  the  inhabitants  of  that  populous  country, 
that  the  vacant  land  might  be  converted  to  the  pasture  of  cattle." 

The  economic  state  of  pastoral  nations,  seems  quite  as  miserable 
as  their  moral  condition.  There  is  still  but  little  of  prudential  re- 
straint to  confine  the  population  within  the  limits  of  subsistence ; 
and  still  the  checks,  as  in  the  case  of  utter  barbarism,  are  vice,  and 
famine,  and  pestilence,  and  war. 

It  is  long  before,  by  that  gradual  process  of  improvement  which 


ESSAY  ON  THE   CONDITION  OF  SOCIETY.    369 

is  going  on  in  every  society,  the  morals  of  such  a  people  are  so  far 
improved,  as  to  give  security  sufficient  for  carrying  on  the  operations 
of  agriculture:  and  it  is  still  longer,  perhaps,  before  by  their  estab- 
lishment prejudices  are  so  far  removed,  as  to  induce  them  to  change 
the  employment  of  the  shepherd  for  that  of  the  husbandman.  But 
when  once  this  period  arrives,  improvement  advances  apace.  The 
land  begins  to  yield  a  rent  to  the  landlord.  The  principle  of  the 
division  of  labour  begins  to  operate.  New  inventions  are  conse- 
quently made,  and  the  productive  powers  of  labour  are  almost  infi- 
nitely increased.  A  knowledge  of  science  and  the  arts  is  dissemi- 
nated, and  then  follow  in  their  train  all  the  blessings  of  civilization 
and  refinement. 

This  process,  tardy  as  it  is,  seems  to  be  the  natural  one,  by  which 
a  society  advances  from  a  state  of  barbarism  to  a  civilized  condition, 
and  through  the  whole  of  it  may  we  behold  how  the  moral  and  the 
economic  blend  together,  and  mutually  influence  and  aflect  each 
other.  And  it  is  a  fact,  not  the  least  deserving  of  our  notice,  in  this 
beautiful  process,  that  though  the  moral  and  the  economic  are  mutu- 
ally subservient  the  one  to  the  other,  yet  it  is  the  moral,  generally 
speaking,  which  takes  the  lead.  Where,  by  the  gradual  progress  of 
improvement,  a  change  is  eff'ected  in  the  moral  condition  of  a  com- 
munity, it  is  instantaneously  followed  up  by  a  corresponding  change 
in  its  economic  condition.  And  not  one  step  can  be  taken  in  the 
path  of  economic  improvement,  till  the  way  has  first  been  prepared 
>)y  the  advancement  of  a  purer  morality.  This  fact,  we  apprehend, 
if  properly  appreciated,  would  lead  to  the  solution  of  a  problem  in 
economic  science,  which  has  long  engaged  the  attention  of  every 
genuine  philanthropist.  It  is  a  melancholy  fact,  that  a  very  large 
portion  of  the  human  family  are  still  sunk  in  the  depths  of  utter 
barbarism,  or  but  a  few  steps  removed  from  it:  and  the  problem  is, 
—  to  civilize  them.  We  are  aware  that  nature  herself  would  ac- 
complish the  task  in  the  lapse  of  ages,  but  the  question  is,  cannot 
we  hasten  her  operations?  It  is  extremely  natural  to  suppose,  and, 
accordingly,  it  has  been  the  opinion  of  most  of  the  philosophers  of 
our  day,  that  the  way  to  solve  this  important  problem,  is  to  begin 
directly  by  teaching  the  barbarians  the  arts  of  civilized  life.  If, 
however,  there  be  any  truth  in  our  remark,  that  the  moral  precedes 
and  paves  the  way  for  the  economic  in  the  natural  progress  of  so- 


370  APPENDIX. 

clcty,  there  Is  a  very  strong  presumption  that  we  must  observe  the 
same  order,  when  it  is  our  wish  to  hasten  this  natural  progress. 
And  if  this  be  the  case,  we  should  be  prepared  to  expect,  that  the 
plan  we  have  mentioned,  however  well  it  promised  as  a  theory, 
would  prove  unsuccessful  when  brought  to  the  test  of  actual  experi- 
ment. And  it  has  accordingly  proved  so.  A  class  of  men,  who 
have  ever  stood  among  the  foremost  in  the  enterprises  of  philan- 
thropy, have  made  an  attempt,  upon  this  plan,  to  civilize  the  Indian 
tribes  of  North  America:  but  so  far  as  we  have  heard,  their  efforts 
have  proved  unsuccessful.  Nor  need  we  wonder  that  such  has  been 
the  result  of  their  operations.  However  zealous  they  may  have  been 
in  their  endeavours,  they  have  been  working  at  the  wrong  end  of 
the  lever.  The  way  one  would  think,  were,  first,  to  elevate  the 
moral  feeling  of  the  barbarian ;  and  then,  having  thus  paved  the 
way  for  economic  improvement,  to  superinduce  those  instructions 
which  might  hasten  the  progress  of  civilization  and  refinement.  On 
this  plan,  too,  the  experiment  has  been  tried,  not  in  one  country,  or 
among  savages  of  one  disposition  ;  but  the  arena  of  its  operations 
has  been  chosen  from  every  latitude  in  either  hemisphere  of  our 
globe,  —  from  the  frozen  regions,  encircled  by  the  Northern  Sea,  to 
the  distant  islands  of  the  Southern  Ocean :  and  wherever  the  experi- 
ment has  been  fairly  tried,  it  has  been  universally  attended  by  a 
greater  or  less  degree  of  success.  And  yet,  strange  as  it  may  seem, 
the  originators  of  this  plan  have  been  laughed  at  as  enthusiasts ;  aied 
they  who  have  devoted,  their  lives  to  carry  it  into  execution,  and  who 
have  told  of  its  success,  have  been  reviled  as  hypocrites  and  liars. 
And  that,  not  because  the  plan  has  failed  in  its  operations,  or  be- 
cause there  has  not  been  sufficient  evidence  of  its  success,  but 
because  of  the  seeming  insignificancy  of  the  means  by  which  this 
mighty  work  is  achieving.  It  is  because  they  are  not  the  philoso- 
phers of  this  world  who  are  its  executors,  but  those  whom  the  phi- 
losophers of  this  world  too  often  despise.  It  is  because  they  are  not 
the  manuals  of  philosophy  which  have  guided  its  operations,  but 
that  book  which  philosophers  have  too  frequently  rejected. 

But  we  shall  be  very  much  deceived,  if  we  imagine  that  all  that 
can  be  done  for  a  country,  is  to  civilize  it ;  and  that,  after  this  has 
been  effected,  the  comforts  of  this  life  are  secured  to  every  individual 
within  its  borders.     Such,  indeed,  is  the  vast  increase  iu  the  produc- 


ESSAY  ON   THE   CONDITION   OF   SOCIETY.    371 

tive  powers  of  labour,  that  the  very  lowest  member  of  a  civilized 
community,  has  a  greater  command  over  the  comforts  of  life,  than 
the  prince  of  any  savage  nation.  But  even  in  a  civilized  community 
do  we  find  much  of  economic  wretchedness.  After  we  have  suc- 
ceeded in  solving  the  problem,  "  to  civilize  a  society,'^  there  still  re- 
mains to  be  solved  another  economic  problem  of  the  last  importance  ; 
and  one  which  has  long  occupied  the  attention  of  philanthropists, 
both  in  our  own  and  other  civilized  nations.  It  is  to  elevate  the 
condition  of  the  poor. 

In  the  attempts  wdiich  have  been  made,  in  our  own  country,  to 
solve  this  problem,  and  in  what  we  consider  the  only  effective  method 
of  accomplishing  this  task,  do  we  think  that  we  have  several  beauti- 
ful illustrations  of  the  way  in  which  the  moral  and  the  economic 
mutually  influence  and  affect  each  other ;  and  to  this  subject,  there- 
fore, we  propose  chiefly  to  direct  our  attention  in  the  remainder  of 
this  essay. 

After  the  division  of  labour  has  allotted  to  each  individual  his 
peculiar  employment,  and  stock  has  been  accumulated,  and  land 
appropriated,  the  inhabitants  of  every  society  are  divided  into  three 
grand  classes. 

The  first  consists  of  those,  who,  by  the  labour  of  their  hands,  work 
up  commodities  both  for  their  own  consumption,  and  that  of  the 
other  classes,  and  are  thus  the  originators  of  the  whole  wealth  of  the 
society.  The  second  class  consists  of  those,  who,  in  virtue  of  a  capi- 
tal, which  either  they  or  their  progenitors  have  accumulated,  are 
enabled  to  furnish  the  labouring  class  with  the  implements  of  their 
industry,  and  to  support  them  till  the  produce  of  their  labour  finds  a 
market:  and  who,  in  return  for  these  important  services,  lay  claim 
to  a  part  of  the  produce  of  their  labour.  The  third  class  consists  of 
those  who,  in  virtue  of  a  possessory  right,  lay  claim  to  the  earth, 
that  great  implement  of  industry,  and  who  derive  a  revenue  by  lend- 
ing out  this  implement  to  the  other  classes. 

On  taking  an  abstract  view  of  these  three  classes,  we  should  least 
of  all  expect,  that  that  class  should  be  the  poorest  which  furnishes 
the  wealth  of  the  whole  society.  Experience,  however,  teaches  us 
that  that  class  of  the  community  who  do  most,  are  the  worst  re- 
warded ;  while  they  who  do  little,  are  in  comfortable  circumstances ; 
and  they  who  do  least,  are  overflowing  in  wealth. 


372  APPENDIX. 

It  has,  accordingly,  been  almost  universally  the  custom  to  de- 
claim against  landlords  and  capitalists,  as  if  they  were  the  authors 
of  all  the  misery  which  exists  among  the  working  classes:  as  if  it 
were  their  avarice  and  their  injustice  which  had  wrested  from  the 
most  useful  class  of  the  community,  that  wealth  which  their  own 
hands  so  laboriously  had  earned.  But  it  is  not  the  landlords 
•who  are  the  authors  of  this  misery ;  it  is  not  the  capitalists  who 
are  the  authors  of  it:  in  very  deed,  it  is  the  labourers  themselves 
who  are  the  authors  of  it.  Were  but  their  manners  virtuous,  and 
their  habits  prudential,  they  might  bid  proud  defiance  to  their 
haughty  superiors,  and  might  refuse  to  treat  with  them  but  on  hon- 
ourable terms.  They,  and  not  their  employers,  are  the  arbitrators 
of  their  wages.  But  it  is  the  vices  to  which  they  are  wedded, 
which,  like  the  false  mistress  of  Samson,  have  betrayed  to  their  ene- 
mies the  secret  of  their  strength :  it  is  their  own  improvident 
habits  which  have  brought  them  down  from  that  lofty  vantage- 
ground  which  else  they  might  occupy,  and  have  placed  them  at  the 
mercy  of  their  employers :  it  is  their  own  over-grown  numbers 
which  have  reduced  them  to  the  point  of  starvation,  and  have  thus 
compelled  thorn,  like  the  inhabitants  of  a  blockaded  city,  who  are 
hard  pressed  by  the  horrors  of  a  famine,  to  submit  to  any  terms, 
however  humiliating,  which  their  masters  may  be  pleased  to  hold 
out. 

This  miserable  condition  of  the  working  class,  when  contrasted 
"with  the  ease  and  affluence  of  the  other  two,  may  not  appear  so 
anomalous,  if  we  but  consider  the  matter  a  little  more  attentively. 
There  are  comparatively  few  who  are  born  heirs  to  fortunes  or  landed 
property,  and  still  fewer  who  acquire  either,  by  dint  of  their  own 
exertions ;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  many  who  lose  both  by  careless- 
ness or  extravagance.  The  working  class  is  thus,  not  only  naturally 
by  far  the  most  numerous,  but  is  continually  exposed  to  the  over- 
jQowings  of  the  other  two.  It  requires  an  effort  to  resist  the  force 
of  the  current,  which  carries  downward,  and  the  most  strenuous 
exertions  seldom  prove  successful  in  the  attempt  to  move  upward 
against  it.  The  demand  for  labour,  however,  is  necessarily  limited ; 
and  it  is  the  eager  competition  which  takes  place  among  labourers, 
for  subsistence,  which  is  the  cause  of  the  miserable  condition  of  the 
workino;  classes. 


ESSAY   ON   THE   CONDITION   OF   SOCIETY.    3T3 

This  misery  has  attracted  the  notice  of  our  legislators,  and  an 
attempt  has  been  made,  on  their  part,  to  relieve  it.  But  in  this  at- 
tempt they  have  committed  the  same  error  as  those  philanthropists 
whom  we  formerly  mentioned  as  having  made  an  unsuccessful  effort 
towards  the  civilization  of  the  North  American  Indians.  They  have 
wrought  at  the  wrong  end  of  the  lever.  They  have  not  adverted  to 
the  fact,  that  it  is  moral  derangement  which  is  the  cause  of  economic 
misery;  and  that,  therefore,  in  every  improvement,  the  moral  must 
take  the  precedency  of  the  economic.  Their  experiment,  accordingly, 
has  hitherto  not  only  failed,  but  has  tended  to  aggravate  the  evil 
which  it  was  meant  to  cure. 

The  greatest  expedient  by  which  it  has  been  attempted  to  relieve 
the  misery  of  the  working  classes,  is  that  system  of  legalized  charity, 
which  is  enforced,  by  what  are  usually  called,  the  poor  laws  of  Eng- 
land. "We  give  credit  to  the  benevolent  feeling  which  prompted  the 
enactment  of  those  laws.  It  was  a  zeal  in  the  cause  of  philanthropy 
which  dictated  the  measure ;  but,  unfortunately,  it  was  a  zeal  not 
according  to  knowledge.  Our  legislators  seem,  in  this  instance, 
to  have  acted  like  that  physician,  who  should  administer  water  to 
allay  the  thirst  of  a  patient  in  a  dropsy,  and  thereby  Increase  the 
virulence  of  the  disease,  for  the  sake  of  giving  the  sufferer  a  few 
moments  of  temporary  relief.  When  the  Parliament  of  England 
framed  the  system  of  English  pauperism,  they  were  guilty  of  two 
inadvertencies.  In  the  first  place,  they  did  not  advert  to  the  nature 
of  the  evil  which  it  was  their  object  to  cure ;  for,  had  they  but  dis- 
covered its  cause,  they  would  at  once  have  perceived  that  it  was 
their  business  to  set  to  work  in  a  very  different  way ;  to  remove,  if 
possible,  the  cause  of  the  evil,  with  the  full  assurance  that  the  re- 
moval of  the  evil  itself  would  be  the  necessary  consequence;  and 
aware,  that  while  the  cause  of  the  evil  continued  in  full  operation, 
all  their  attempts  to  remove  the  evil  itself  would  prove  utterly  vain. 
In  the  second  place,  they  forgot  that  that  same  compassion  which 
dictated  their  well-meant  exertions,  was  not  confined  to  them  alone, 
but  glowed  as  fervently  in  every  English  bosom.  The  first  of  these 
things  our  legislators  did  not  perceive,  or  they  would  have  conducted 
the  business  in  a  very  different  manner.  The  second,  they  did  not 
advert  to,  or  they  would  nev'Cr  have  proceeded  a  singlo  step  in  the 
business  at  all. 

32 


874  APPENDIX. 

The  present,  system  of  English  pauperism  has  been  productive  of 
two  very  great  evils,  arising  from  these  two  inadvertencies  of  its 
originators.  In  the  first  place,  it  has  prevented  the  operation  of 
those  efi"ectual  remedies  which  nature  has  provided  for  the  relief  of 
existing  misery.  And  in  the  second  place,  it  has  contributed  very 
much  to  add  to  the  numbers  of  the  wretched. 

The  first  and  greatest  of  those  remedies  which  nature  has  provided 
for  the  relief  of  existing  misery,  is  the  relative  affections.  The  filial 
and  parental  afi'ections  are  perhaps  the  strongest  and  most  universal 
instinct  we  know  of.  They  have  been  implanted  in  us  by  a  wise 
Creator,  for  the  most  important  ends,  and  were  we  altogether  de- 
prived of  them,  society  could  not  exist.  They  are  not  confined  to 
man  alone,  but  are  shared  with  him  by  all  the  tribes  of  animated 
nature ;  so  that,  to  deprive  him  of  these  affections  were  to  sink  him 
below  the  level  of  the  inferior  creation.  Yet  this,  to  a  certain  ex- 
tent at  least,  is  the  effect  of  English  pauperism.  It  is  the  helpless- 
ness of  tender  infancy  and  childhood,  and  of  decrepit  old  age,  which 
calls  into  action,  with  all  their  vigour,  the  family  affections.  The 
poor  laws,  however,  have  provided  both  for  the  helplessness  of  youth, 
and  the  infirmity  of  age,  and  have  thus  contributed  to  burst  asunder 
the  strongest  and  tenderest  ties  of  our  nature.  Nor  is  this  an  asser- 
tion that  is  unsupported  by  facts.  There  are  instances  in  which  a 
parent  has  actually  disclaimed  his  own  children,  and  has  told  the 
overseer  of  the  parish  that  it  is  none  of  his  business  to  provide  for 
them  ;  that  the  parish  must  find  work  for  them,  or  support  them,  if 
it  cannot. 

If  the  poor  laws  have  extinguished  those  natural  affections  which 
subsist  between  members  of  the  same  family,  we  cannot  expect  that 
they  have  left  uninjured  those  mutual  sympathies  which  reciprocate 
between  the  inhabitants  of  the  same  neighbourhood;  far  less  those 
more  distant  expressions  of  kindness  which  descend  u^n  the 
wretched  from  the  coffers  of  the  rich. 

But  were  this  all  the  mischief  the  poor  laws  had  done,  there  might 
still  be  found  some  to  advocate  the  cause  of  pauperism.  It  might  be 
argued  for  this  system  of  legalized  charity,  that  if  it  has  destroyed 
the  natural  remedies  for  existing  misery,  it  has  substituted  in  their 
place  an  artificial  remedy,  equally  effective ;  that  a  provision  for  the 
distressed  is  still  as  sure  as  before,  though  it  flows  through  a  differ- 
ent channel. 


X    ESSAY   ON   THE    CONDITION   OF   SOCIETY.    375 

It  were  but  a  silly  excuse  for  complicating  a  clock  or  a  watch  with 
a  great  deal  of  intricate  mechanism,  that  the  additional  work  had 
the  wonderful  property  of  rectifying  those  defects  of  which  itself  was 
the  cause,  and  that  the  instrument  answered  its  end  every  whit  as 
well  as  it  did  before.  But  even  such  a  defence,  weak  as  it  is,  cannot 
Tdc  advanced  for  English  pauperism. 

The  evils  which  we  have  mentioned,  are,  after  all,  but  the  least 
which  pauperism  has  effected.  Not  only  has  it  prevented  the  opera- 
tion of  those  remedies  which  nature  has  provided  for  existing  misery, 
but  it  has  actually  increased  this  misery.  Its  regulations,  by  insur- 
ing against  the  wretchedness  which  they  generally  occasion,  have 
thrown  down  those  barriers  which  naturally  restrain  from  vice  and 
imprudence.  Imprudence  qualifies  an  individual  for  receiving  parish 
support;  and  vice,  at  least,  does  not  disqualify  us.  For  the  first  of 
these  positions  there  is  sufficient  evidence  in  the  fact,  that  single 
persons,  when  the  overseer  has  refused  to  enrol  them  on  the  list  of 
paupers,  have  flatly  told  him,  that  if  he  do  not  give  them  the  usual 
parish  allowance,  they  will  go  away  and  marry,  and  thus  compel  the 
parish  to  support,  not  only  themselves,  but  also  their  families.  Of 
the  latter  position,  that  vice  is  no  disqualification,  we  have  a  most 
palpable  illustration,  in  the  case  of  an  individual,  who  on  the  over- 
seers refusing  to  give  him  any  support  at  all,  on  the  ground  of  his 
possessing  some  property  of  his  own,  most  impudently  threatened  to 
go  to  the  next  ale-house,  and  there  spend  his  all  in  dissipation,  in 
order  that  he  might  more  effectually  burden  the  parish  by  compel- 
ling it  to  give  him  a  full  allowance. 

But  the  greatest  mischief  of  all,  perhaps,  of  which  pauperism  has 
been  the  cause,  is,  that  it  not  only  adds  to  the  numbers  of  the  miser- 
able, by  destroying  the  prudential  habits  of  a  great  part  of  the  com- 
munity, but  that  it  deteriorates  the  economic  condition  even  of  those 
whose  confirmed  habits  of  sobriety  and  industry  have  withstood  its 
baneful  influence.  The  composition  of  wages  with  parish  allowance, 
is  perhaps  the  most  mischievous  part  of  all  this  mischievous  system. 
If  our  legislators  did  mean  to  give  the  poor  a  title  to  legal  support, 
it  were  better  far,  that  in  every  instance,  they  had  made  the  parish 
allowance  sufficient  to  maintain  the  pauper  entirely,  and  that  they 
had  never  had  recourse  to  the  ruinous  experiment  of  compounding 
this  allowance  with  the  ordinary  reward  of  labour. 


376  APPENDIX. 

In  this  case  all  the  evils  we  have  already  mentioned,  would  no 
doubt  have  followed,  but  there  is  one  very  great  evil,  which  would 
have  been  in  a  great  measure  prevented,  the  reduction  of  the  wages 
of  the  independent  part  of  the  working  classes. 

In  the  present  state  of  things,  let  a  man  be  ever  so  industrious, 
and  ever  so  sober,  and  ever  so  prudent,  it  is  absolutely  impossible 
for  him  to  better  his  condition,  so  long  as  pauperism  sends  forth  her 
myriads  of  labourers  to  compete  with  him  at  any  price,  however  low, 
which  the  employer  may  choose  to  offer.  It  is  true,  that  the  Avork- 
ing  classes  have  the  power  of  regulating  their  own  wages  ;  but  it 
is  not  one  individual,  or  a  number  of  individuals,  who  can  effect 
this.  It  requires  a  combination  of,  at  least,  a  very  considerable  por- 
tion of  the  labouring  community  ;  and  to  this  most  desirable  of  all 
ends,  pauperism  presents  a  most  insuperable  obstacle. 

But  we  have,  perhaps,  entered  too  much  into  detail,  in  enumerat- 
ing the  evils  of  a  system,  with  regard  to  whose  mischievous  tendency, 
every  body  seems  now  to  be  perfectly  agreed.  It  requires  not  now 
a  well  argued  representation,  to  convince  people  of  the  evils  of  pau- 
perism. It  has  long  been  felt,  experimentally,  to  be  the  scourge  of 
our  nation.  The  question  is  not  now, —  Should  the  poor  laws  be 
abolished?  but,  —  Can  they  be  abolished  with  safety?  And,  if  so, 
How  is  this  most  desirable  end  to  be  accomplished  ?  It  must  be 
palpable  to  every  one,  that  the  poor  laws  of  England  are  now  so 
enwoven  into  the  very  constitution  of  society,  and  so  amalgamated 
with  the  manners  of  a  very  considerable  portion  of  the  people,  that 
a  sudden  repeal  of  them  would  be  an  experiment  attended  with  the 
most  dangerous  consequences.  There  is  every  reason  to  fear,  that 
were  the  Parliament  of  Great  Britain,  by  a  single  act  of  their  au- 
thority, at  once  to  disinherit  every  pauper  of  his  wonted  allowance, 
the  result  might  be  nothing  less  than  a  rebellion  ;  and  that  the  pre- 
cipitancy of  such  a  measure  could  scarce  fail  to  land  us  in  all  the 
horrors  of  internal  commotion.  In  attempting  the  cure  of  a  disease 
so  virulent,  and  which  has  its  seat  so  deep  in  the  constitution  of  the 
society,  the  greatest  care  must  be  taken,  lest,  in  the  attempt  to  ex- 
tract the  part  that  is  diseased,  we  pierce  the  very  vitals,  or  let  flow 
the  life-blood  of  the  body  politic.  If  pauperism  is  ever  to  be  abol- 
ished, it  must  be  by  a  gradual  process.  The  abolition  of  the  poor 
laws  must  be  the  work,  not  of  a  day,  but  of  months  and  of  years. 


ESSAY  ON  THE  CONDITION  OF  SOCIETY.    877 

It  must,  in  fact,  be  a  work  of  prevention,  rather  than  of  cure.  It 
were  cruelty,  —  it  were  madness,  to  snatch  their  wretched  pittance 
from  the  present  dependants  on  the  vestry.  The  present  race  of 
paupers  must  be  permitted  to  die  away,  in  the  quiet  possession  of 
their  rights :  and  it  must  be  made  the  main  concern,  not  to  cure  the 
evil  which  exists,  but  to  prevent  the  evil  which  threatens. 

The  whole  system  of  pauperism  may,  we  think,  be  illustrated  by 
the  case  of  a  machine,  which  has  gone  into  disorder,  and  whose 
errors  are  attempted  to  be  rectified  by  one  who  is  unacquainted  with 
its  internal  mechanism.  We  shall  suppose  that  the  machine  is  a 
watch,  and  that,  from  some  cause  or  other,  it  does  not  keep  time. 
The  most  palpable  method  of  rectifying  this  error,  which  would 
occur  to  one  that  was  ignorant  of  its  cause,  would  be,  to  move  back- 
ward or  forward,  as  the  case  might  require,  the  hands  on  the  dial- 
plate.  But  it  would  soon  be  evident,  that  this  was  but  a  temporary 
remedy,  and  that  the  index  of  the  watch,  in  a  short  time  deviated 
as  far  as  ever  from  pointing  out  the  real  hour.  Temporary,  how- 
ever, and  withal  troublesome  as  this  remedy  undoubtedly  would  be, 
it  might  come,  by  frequent  repetition,  to  have  at  least  the  semblance 
of  eflBciency.  And  yet  might  it  happen,  that  this  continued  appli- 
cation of  external  force  to  the  hands  of  the  dial-plate,  was,  all  the 
time,  doing  violence  to  the  internal  mechanism  of  the  watch  ;  and 
thus,  instead  of  diminishing,  was  continually  increasing  the  real 
cause  of  the  evil.  Let  us  now  suppose,  that  the  watch  is  put  into 
the  hands  of  one  who  is  intimately  acquainted  with  the  construction 
and  arrangement  of  all  its  parts  ;  and  let  us  try  to  perceive,  wherein 
the  method  which  he  takes  to  rectify  its  movements,  differs  from 
that  which  the  first  individual  pursued.  The  existing  error,  he  will 
treat  just  as  it  had  been  treated  before:  he  will  apply  an  external 
force  to  the  hands  of  the  watch.  But  he  will  not  be  satisfied  with 
this.  He  will  search  amid  the  intricacies  of  the  internal  mechan- 
ism, for  that  which  has  been  the  cause  of  the  error  ;  and  it  may  be 
by  a  slight  touch  of  the  regulator,  he  will  effectually  prevent  the 
recurrence  of  the  error  in  time  to  come. 

Now  it  has  thus  happened  with  the  vast  engine  of  the  commu- 
nity:  its  mechanism  has  been  deranged,  —  and  without  searching 
for  the  cause  of  this  derangement,  it  has  been  attempted  to  rectify 
it  by  the  application  of  an  extraneous  remedy.     This  remedy  was 
32* 


378  APPENDIX. 

found  to  effect  only  a  temporary  cure,  and  accordingly  it  was  fre- 
quently repeated.  It  is  now  found,  however,  that  this  continuous 
application  of  external  force,  has  tended  to  derange  more  and  more 
the  internal  mechanism  of  this  mighty  engine.  So  fearfully  has  the 
evil  increased,  that  every  one  now  perceives  that  some  new  method 
must  be  adopted.  But  there  is  a  dread,  lest,  if  we  all  at  once  give 
up  this  external  rectification,  which  confessedly,  however,  is  every 
day  augmenting  the  cause  of  the  evil,  this  mighty  machine  may  go 
into  utter  disarrangement.  There  is  then  a  dilemma,  and  either 
alternative  seems  attended  with  the  most  dangerous  results.  The 
only  way,  which  seems  at  once  safe  and  effectual,  is  to  proceed,  as  in 
the  case  of  our  illustration ;  to  treat  the  existing  evil  as  it  has  been 
treated  all  along,  but  to  prevent  the  future  evil,  by  an  alteration  in 
the  inner  mechanism  of  the  machine.  And  it  is  interesting  to  ob- 
serve, that  the  analogy  holds  still  further.  As  in  the  case  of  the 
watch,  a  very  slight  alteration  of  the  regulator  may  be  sufficient  to 
counteract  a  very  great  deviation  from  the  truth  in  the  hands  of  the 
dial-plate  ;  so,  in  the  case  of  a  community,  the  cause  of  the  econo- 
mic misery  which  exists  among  the  working  classes,  is,  after  all,  but 
slight,  and  consequently  can  be  easily  removed. 

From  these  observations,  it  appeal's,  that  there  are  two  grand 
points  which  must  be  kept  in  view,  in  any  attempt  to  abolish  the 
system  of  English  pauperism.  First,  that  the  abolition  of  the  sys- 
tem should  be  so  complete,  that  no  future  amendment  might  be  re- 
quired ;  and  yet,  that  in  the  second  place,  it  should  be  so  gradual  as 
to  cause  no  sudden  disrupture.  We  may  just  briefly  remark,  with- 
out entering  into  details,  that  both  these  points  may  be  attained  by 
a  mode  of  policy  similar  to  that  which  has  been  employed  with  re- 
gard to  the  enclosure  of  English  commons.  It  is  interesting  to  ob- 
serve, how,  on  the  abolition  of  pauperism,  the  relief  which  nature 
has  provided  for  misery,  begins  again  to  operate ;  and  those  numer- 
ous fountains  of  benevolence,  which  had  been  frozen  up,  under  its 
cold  and  cheerless  influence,  again  begin  to  flow.  And  still  more 
interesting  is  it  to  observe,  how  soon  our  population  will  shake  off 
that  lethargic  indifference  about  the  future,  which  the  provisions  of 
legalized  charity  so  long  have  fostered ;  and,  how  soon  prudential 
restraint  will  again  reduce  the  numbers  of  a  community,  whose  over- 
grown size  has  been  the  great  cause  of  their  misery. 


ESSAY   ON   THE   CONDITION   OF   SOCIETY.    379 

But  we  are  not  so  sanguine  in  our  expectations,  as  to  suppose  that 
the  abolition  of  pauperism  would  procure  for  the  working  classes, 
all  the  ease,  and  all  the  comfort,  we  could  desire  to  see  them  pos- 
sessed of.  We  assuredly  do  suppose,  however,  that  by  its  abolition, 
a  mighty  obstacle  would  be  removed  which  at  present  destroys  the 
effectiveness  of  those  means  which  are  employing  to  accomplish  this 
most  desirable  end.  It  is  well,  perhaps,  that  the  evils  of  pauperism 
are  continually  increasing ;  for  this  is  a  circumstance  which  ensures 
it  speedy  abolition.  The  system  cannot  work  much  longer.  Things 
must  soon  come  to  a  crisis.  And  what  our  legislators  are  now  un- 
willing to  do,  at  the  instigation  of  reason,  they  will  soon  be  com- 
pelled to  perform  by  the  power  of  an  irresistible  necessity. 

Besides  the  system  of  pauperism,  there  are  yet  two  other  ob- 
stacles which  have  hitherto  stood  in  the  way  of  those  philanthropic 
exertions  which  are  now  making  in  every  quarter,  for  elevating  the 
condition  of  the  working  classes.  The  first  is,  the  law  against  com- 
binations of  workmen,  for  the  purpose  of  raising  their  wages.  The 
second  is,  the  want  of  a  small  capital  among  the  operatives,  to  en- 
able them  to  stand  out  till  their  masters  may  accede  to  their  terms. 
Happily  the  first  of  these  obstacles  is  now  removed  ;  and  an  attempt 
has  been  made  to  remove  the  second,  which  bids  fair  to  prove  suc- 
cessful. For  the  repeal  of  the  combination  laws,  the  labouring 
classes  are  indebted  to  the  enlightened  policy  of  the  present  age, 
which  has  at  length  taught  our  legislators,  the  absurdity  of  com- 
polling  an  individual,  in  a  country  which  boasts  of  its  liberties,  to 
sell  his  labour  at  a  price  which  can  barely  supply  him  with  the  ne- 
cessaries of  life,  and  all  for  the  purpose  of  keeping  up  the  wealth 
and  the  dignity  of  his  more  affluent  fellow-countrymen.  For  an 
attempt  to  remove  the  second  obstacle  to  which  we  have  alluded,  our 
operatives  are  indebted  to  a  zealous  and  philanthropic  minister  of 
the  Church  of  Scotland. 

This  gentleman  has  succeeded  in  establishing,  in  his  own  parish, 
and  in  several  other  parts  of  the  country,  those  admirable  institu- 
tions, which  are  now  beginning  to  be  generally  known,  by  the  name 
of  Saving  Banks  ;  institutions  where  the  humble  shilling  of  the  la- 
bourer is  received,  with  as  much  thankfulness,  and  tendered  back  to 
him  when  demanded,  with  as  much  promptness  and  affability,  as  is 
the  most  valuable  deposit  of  his  wealthy  employer.     It  is  a  very  re- 


380  APPENDIX. 

markable  coincidence,  and  one  which  augurs  well  for  the  future 
prospects  of  the  labouring  classes,  that  these  two  circumstances 
should  have  occurred,  as  if  to  give  them  every  opportunity  of  profit- 
ing by  their  elevated  standard  of  enjoyment,  just  at  the  time  when, 
by  means  altogther  different,  it  was  in  contemplation  to  elevate  that 
standard.  These  means  are  now  beginning  their  operation  ;  and 
there  is  reason  to  expect,  that  the  opportunities  of  moral  and  scien- 
tific instruction  will  soon  be  patent  to  every  individual  in  the  society. 
Among  these  means,  we  might  enumerate  our  schools  of  arts,  and 
our  reading  societies  for  the  instruction  of  the  old ;  and  our  parish 
and  Sabbath-schools  for  the  education  of  the  young. 

These  are  institutions  which  have  already  been  productive  of  the 
most  salutary  results,  and  of  whose  beneficent  influence  we  may  yet 
hope  to  behold  more  visible  manifestations  written  upon  the  face  of 
our  country.  By  their  instrumentality  may  we  hope,  even  within 
the  short  period  of  our  life-time,  to  see  the  balance  of  society  more 
equally  poised,  — to  behold  our  landlords  retrenching  a  few  of  their 
more  extravagant  superfluities,  in  order  to  supply  more  liberally, 
with  the  comforts  and  conveniences  of  life,  by  far  the  most  deserv- 
ing class  of  the  community. 

On  the  whole  there  seems  something  like  the  dawning  of  a  brighter 
era  in  the  history  of  our  world.  Whether  we  listen  to  those  cheer- 
ing reports,  which  are  daily  arriving  from  the  friends  of  religion 
and  philanthropy  abroad,  or  direct  our  regards  to  the  animating 
prospects  of  our  home  population ;  we  cannot  help  thinking,  that 
we  already  descry  the  visible  approach  of  a  period  which  has  long 
been  expected  by  the  Christian,  as  well  as  dreamt  of,  and  longed  for 
by  the  infidel  philosopher ;  a  period,  which,  by  the  plenty  and  the 
happiness  that  shall  be  showered  down  upon  every  family,  and  by 
the  fidelity,  and  the  justice,  and  the  benevolence,  that  shall  animate 
every  bosom,  will  outvie  the  high-wrought  descriptions  of  a  golden 
age,  which  poetic  fancy  has  imagined. 

We,  at  least,  who  believe  in  the  divine  inspiration  of  the  Bible, 
can  look  forward  with  joyful  anticipation,  to  that  time,  when,  in  the 
language  of  the  prophecy  which  has  foretold  its  coming,  "  the  know- 
ledge of  the  Lord  shall  cover  the  earth  as  the  waters  cover  the  chan- 
nel of  the  deep."  And  then,  under  the  influence  of  that  pure  and 
elevated  morality,  which  Christianity  shall  universally  difi'use,  might 


ADDRESS    ON    MISSIONS.  381 

■vre  confidently  predict,  that  the  economic  condition  of  society  shall 
assume  a  brighter  aspect  than  ever  yet  it  hath  worn,  since  that  day 
when  man  was  driven  from  the  blissful  bowers  of  his  first  inherit- 
ance, and  was  condemned  to  earn  his  bread  by  the  sweat  of  his 
brow.  Then  shall  those  private  animosities  and  heart-burnings, 
which  now  embitter  the  joys  of  social  intercourse,  be  for  ever  extin- 
guished: and  then,  too,  shall  the  tribes  of  the  human  family  forget 
those  quarrels,  which  so  long  have  been  the  scourge  of  this  fair 
world ;  "  nation  shall  not  rise  up  against  nation,  neither  shall  they 
learn  the  art  of  war  any  more." 

*'  St.  Andrew's,  April,  1825. 
"A  truly  admirable  essay,  replete  with  sound  judgment,  and 
felicitous  illustration ;  and  announcing  itself,  at  the  first  glance, 
as  worthy  of  the  highest  prize. 

"  Thomas  Chalmers." 


K. 

ADDRESS  TO  THE  ST.  ANDREW'S  UNIVERSITY  MISSIONARY 
SOCIETY,  ON  THE  DUTY  OF  PERSONAL  ENGAGEMENT  IN  THE 
WORK  OE  MISSIONS. 

I  AM  tired  of  arguing  with  the  opponents  of  the  missionary  cause. 
It  is  my  intention  this  evening  to  address  myself  to  those  who  pro- 
fess to  be  its  friends. 

I  can  easily  conceive  a  mind  so  biassed  by  prejudice,  as  to  take  a 
distorted  view  of  every  argument  that  can  be  adduced  on  this,  or 
indeed  on  any  other  subject  whatever;  or,  a  mind  moving  in  such  a 
sphere  as  never  to  have  had  these  arguments  fairly  presented  to  it; 
and,  therefore,  I  am  by  no  means  disposed  to  speak  roundly  of  all 
who  refuse  to  lend  their  aid  to  missionary  societies,  in  a  tone  of  un- 
equivocal condemnation.     But,  I  do  confess.  I  cannot  imagine  a 


882  APPENDIX. 

mind  which  has  deliberately  weighed  the  arguments,  and  candidly 
considered  the  facts  of  this  important  subject,  still  refusing  to  em- 
bark its  energies  or  its  influence  in  some  way  or  other,  in  the  work 
of  evangelizing  the  nations  of  the  earth.  Indeed,  the  cause  of  mis- 
sions has  already  met  w^ith  such  able  defence,  and  the  arguments 
of  its  opponents  have  been  so  often  refuted,  that  they  themselves 
seem  to  be  almost  sick  of  the  very  sound  of  their  oft  repeated  objec- 
tions. And,  more  than  this,  as  if  to  show  that  the  subject  is  quite 
impregnable,  even  at  those  points  which  the  adversaries  have  never 
assailed,  the  advocates  for  the  promulgation  of  Christianity,  like  the 
advocates  for  the  truth  of  Christianity  before  them,  have  even  brought 
forward  fictitious  objections  of  their  own  invention,  in  order  to  de- 
monstrate with  what  perfect  ease  such  objections  could  have  been 
met,  had  the  adversaries  of  the  cause  adduced  them.  And  truly, 
after  the  champions  of  the  missionary  cause  have  done  their  part  so 
well,  it  seems  altogether  needless  still  to  keep  up  the  debate  with 
those  who  seem  determined  to  resist  the  appeals  of  the  most  cogent 
reasoning,  and  even  to  set  at  nought  the  authority  of  human  testi- 
mony. For  of  those  who  persist  in  denying  the  efficacy  of  mission- 
ary exertion,  it  may  in  truth  be  said,  that  they  "  will  not  believe  the 
great  work  which  the  Lord  is  working  in  these  days,  even  though  a 
man  declare  it  unto  them."  Surely,  then,  we  cannot  justly  be 
charged  with  a  want  of  charity,  when  thus  compelled  to  the  belief 
that  after  all,  this  pretended  opposition  of  judgment  on  the  part  of 
our  adversaries,  is  nothing  but  a  screen  for  the  coldness  and  indif- 
ference of  their  hearts. 

I  turn,  therefore,  altogether  at  present  from  those  who  oppose 
these  exertions  of  Christian  philanthropy,  and  address  myself  to 
the  friends  of  missions.  I  address  myself  to  you,  who,  by  being  the 
members  of  a  missionary  society,  profess  yourselves  the  advocates 
and  supporters  of  this  benevolent  scheme ;  and,  more  especially,  to 
those  of  you  who,  by  entering  on  a  course  of  study  preparatory  to 
the  duties  of  the  Christian  ministry,  have  thereby  professed  to  de- 
vote yourselves  unreservedly  to  the  service  of  God,  in  the  gospel  of 
his  Son. 

And  I  do  not  address  you,  my  friends,  for  the  purpose  of  again 
repeating  those  unmeaning  compliments  that  are  wont  to  be  pre- 
sented to  the  subscribers  and  office-bearers  of  missionary  societies, 


ADDRESS    ON    MISSIONS.  383 

at  such  meetings  as  the  present.  I  do  fear  that  there  is  too  much 
of  the  tone  of  this  world's  flattering  adulation  in  the  public  language 
of  our  missionary  assemblies.  The  doctrine  of  this  essay  may  be 
unpalatable,  but  I  believe  it  to  be  true,  that  the  members  of  mis- 
sionary associations  have  absolutely  done  nothing,  when  we  consider 
the  high  demands  of  a  cause  whose  object  is  the  spiritual  and  moral 
renovation  of  a  world.  Neither  do  I  address  you  for  the  purpose  of 
picturing  forth  in  the  colouring  of  romance,  the  high  devotedness  of 
missionary  character,  and  lofty  achievements  of  the  missionary  life. 
This  has  often  been  done  already;  but  like  most  other  poetic  de- 
scriptions, while  it  has  excited  the  imagination,  it  has  foiled  to  influ- 
ence the  conduct.  It  may  have  caused  him  who  listened,  to  indulge 
in  some  fairy  dream  of  exile  and  martyrdom  for  the  sake  of  his  reli- 
gion and  his  Saviour ;  while  all  the  while  it  is  quite  possible  that 
not  only  he,  but  even  the  very  person  who  drew  the  splendid  pic- 
ture, may  have  remained  altogether  unimpressed  with  the  sober  con- 
victions of  a  duty  his  imagination  had  set  forth  in  such  glowing 
characters.  In  reahty,  this  has  been  the  case.  One  cannot  help 
wondering,  that  of  the  many  who  have  pleaded  so  earnestly  for  the 
cause,  of  missions,  and  have  declaimed  so  eloquently  concerning  the 
high  dignity  of  the  missionary  enterprise,  so  few  have  been  found 
who  were  willing  to  go  forth  to  the  combat.  It  seems  to  me,  that 
while  the  enemies  of  missions  have  altogether  despised  and  vilified 
the  missionary  office,  the  advocates  of  missions  have  erred  in  the 
other  extreme,  by  regarding  it  with  somewhat  of  a  sentimental  ad- 
miration, and  by  describing  it  rather  as  a  work  of  supererogation 
than  of  duty. 

We  have  been  too  much  accustomed  to  regard  the  missionary  life 
as  an  undertaking  of  most  extraordinary  magnitude,  and  as  reserved 
for  a  few  of  the  most  daring  and  devoted  spirits  in  the  race  of  living 
Christians  ;  and  thus  we  easily  succeed  in  pushing  from  ourselves 
the  duty  of  personal  engagement.  But  we  should  do  well  to  view 
the  matter  apart  from  this  borrowed  splendour,  which,  by  its  glare 
obscures  rather  than  brightens  the  object  of  our  contemplation. 
After  all  the  greater  part  of  the  work  must  be  accomplished  by  ordi- 
nary men.  And  I  am  persuaded,  if  we  but  take  a  candid  and  sober 
view  of  the  case,  we  shall  begin  to  suspect  that  the  matter  ma^  come 
home  in  the  shape  of  duty,  even  to  ourselves.    Great,  as  are  the  sacri- 


384  APPENDIX. 

fices  the  missionary  makes,  they  are  but  small  when  we  tate  into 
account  those  sublime  truths  which  we  believe  as  well  as  he.  And 
it  is  of  the  very  deepest  importance  that  we  should  bear  in  mind 
that  those  very  sacrifices  are  represented  in  the  Bible,  not  as  the 
fruits  of  an  overreaching  faith  which  may  fall  to  the  lot  of,  but  here 
and  there,  a  mind  of  apostolic  endowment;  but  as  the  test  of  simple 
discipleship  itself.  "  If  any  man  come  to  me  and  hate  not  his  father 
and  mother,  and  wife  and  children,  and  brethren  and  sisters,  yea, 
and  his  own  life  also,  he  cannot  be  my  disciple."  If  by  these,  and 
the  remarks  that  follow,  I  can  impress  the  mind  of  any  one  of  you 
with  the  duty  of  engaging  in  this  great  undertaking,  let  me  warn 
such  an  individual  of  the  delusion  of  putting  such  convictions  away 
from  him  on  the  ground  that  this  is  a  work  far  too  high  for  him  to 
engage  in  ;  or  under  the  deceitful  impression  that  his  shrinking  from 
such  an  enterprise  is  a  sign  merely  that  his  faith  is  weak,  and  has 
not  yet  acquired  sufficient  strength  to  warrant  his  engaging  in  a 
work  of  such  difficulty  and  self-denial.  If  the  words  of  Christ  be 
true,  which  I  have  just  repeated,  to  shrink  from  duty,  even  in  the 
face  of  all  the  trials  that  present  themselves  in  the  contemplation  of 
the  missionary  life,  does  not  argue  a  weakness  of  faith  merely,  but  a 
want  of  faith.  The  man  who  is  not  ready  to  part  with  country  and 
even  life  itself,  at  the  bidding  of  his  Saviour,  is  not  worthy  of  the 
name  of  a  disciple. 

Now  were  it  not  that  the  minds  of  all  of  us,  in  regard  to  this  sub- 
ject, are  under  the  influence  of  most  overpowering  and  bewildering 
prejudices,  I  am  sure  I  should  only  have  to  lay  before  you  the  pre- 
sent state  of  missionary  operations,  in  order  to  convince  you  of  the 
duty  of  taking  the  question  into  most  serious  consideration  :  Whether 
you  may  not  be  called  to  engage  in  this  work  of  evangelizing  the 
heathen.  You  give  your  assent  to  the  duty  of  sending  the  gospel 
to  pagan  countries,  and  by  your  subscriptions  you  profess  your- 
selves willing  to  co-operate  in  the  accomplishment  of  this  grand 
object.  And  so  far,  you  have  done  well.  You  may  have  thought 
you  were  doing  all  that  was  in  your  power  for  the  furtherance  of  the 
great  design,  and  you  may  have  never  once  suspected  that  there  was 
any  call  for  greater  services  on  your  part.  But  if  I  can  convince 
you,  that  there  is  such  a  call,  then,  on  the  simple  score  of  consist- 
ency, you  are  bound  to  listen  to  it,  and  to  obey  it.     For,  if  this  mat- 


ADDRESS    ON    MISSIONS.  885 

ter  demands  our  attention  at  all,  it  demands  our  deepest  attention  ; 
if  it  has  a  right  to  our  services  at  all,  it  has  a  right  to  our  most 
devoted  services.  If  you  are  not  prepared  to  make  greater  sacrifices 
in  this  cause  than  you  have  ever  yet  done,  when  manifestly  called 
to  do  so,  then  the  little  you  have  done  will  only  serve  most  clearly 
to  condemn  you.  Others,  who  deny  the  importance,  or  disbelieve 
the  efficacy  of  the  missionary  project,  may  have  some  plausible  ex- 
cuse for  standing  aloof:  they  are  at  least  consistent  with  their  own 
profession.  But,  assuredly,  it  does  convict  us  of  singular  hard- 
heartedness  towards  our  fellow-men,  if  our  zeal  for  their  conversion 
can  carry  us  the  length  of  giving  up  a  few  paltry  shillings,  which 
•were  not  surrendered,  it  may  be,  at  the  expense  of  a  single  comfort, 
and  our  zeal  can  carry  us  no  further.  We  might  pardon,  though 
we  could  not  defend,  the  incredulity  of  the  individual  who  would 
not  believe  that  some  family  near  was  in  a  state  of  starvation  ;  but 
we  should  utterly  detest  the  sordid  avarice  and  unfeeling  apathy  of 
the  man  who  by  giving  something,  should  just  show  us  that  he  gave 
credit  to  the  tale  of  suffering,  and  who  yet,  by  the  worthlessness  of 
the  trifle  which  he  gave,  should  let  us  see  that  the  wretchedness  of 
his  neighbour  had  made  no  suitable  impression  on  his  heart. 

Now,  I  say,  there  is  a  call  for  much  more  devoted  services  on  your 
part,  than  you  have  ever  yet  rendered  in  the  work  of  evangelizing 
the  nations.  If  we  are  disposed  to  estimate  the  prosperity  of  the 
missionary  cause  from  the  sums  that  are  annually  poured  into  its 
coffers,  we  should  indeed  augur  well  of  its  success.  But  you  are 
aware,  that  after  all,  money  is  but  a  subordinate  part  of  the  appa- 
ratus. It  may  be  the  main-spring  of  the  machine,  but  it  is  not  the 
machine  itself.  The  agents,  who  go  forth  to  the  work,  are  the  effec- 
tive part  of  the  mechanism.  And  what  avails  it,  that  we  have 
obtained  a  good  moving  power,  if  there  be  no  machine  to  set  it  in 
motion?  A  good  will  to  the  cause  of  missions  has  been  on  the  in- 
crease, but  there  is  every  reason  to  fear  that  the  spirit  of  missionary 
zeal  is  on  the  decline.  It  has  grown  more  fashionable  of  late  to  sub- 
scribe to  missionary  societies :  in  consequence  of  this,  the  revenues 
of  the  different  societies  have  been  so  increased,  as  would  enable 
them  to  extend  their  plans,  could  they  but  find  a  sufficient  number 
of  zealous  and  devoted  agents.  But  such  is  the  languishing  state 
of  missionary  zeal,  so  little  is  there  of  what  Home  would  call  "a 

33 


386  APPENDIX. 

passion  for  missions,"  that  it  is  with  considerable  difficulty  the  pre- 
sent stations  can  be  supplied  ;  and,  in  such  circumstances,  it  is  alto- 
gether vain  to  talk  of  extending  the  plan  of  missionary  operations. 

When  first  the  proposal  was  made  to  send  the  heralds  of  salvation 
to  the  ends  of  the  earth,  the  Christian  world  received  the  proposal 
with  eagerness  and  joy.  A  splendid  equipment  was  fitted  out,  and 
many  were  desirous  of  sharing  the  honours  of  the  victory  that  was 
so  confidently  and  so  ardently  anticipated.  But  the  novelty  of  the 
missionary  enterprise  is  gone  ;  and  it  would  seem  that  the  spirit  of 
undaunted  chivalry  which  a  scheme  of  such  lofty  sublimity,  and 
such  disinterested  benevolence,  at  first  excited,  has  languished,  and 
well  nigh  expired  under  the  heavy  pressure  of  those  difficulties  and 
discouragements  which  an  actual  experiment  has  brought  to  light. 

The  Scottish  Missionary  Society  is  in  want  of  labourers  ;  the  Lon- 
don Missionary  Society  is  in  want  of  labourers  ;  the  Church  Mission- 
ary Society  (to  the  shame  of  the  churchmen  of  England  be  it  told) 
have  for  some  time  been  compelled  to  gather  the  missionaries,  whom 
they  send  forth,  from  the  other  countries  of  Europe.  And,  to  sum 
up  all,  even  among  the  Moravians  themselves,  so  famed  for  the  de- 
votedness  of  their  missionary  zeal,  that  spirit  of  other  days,  which 
could  brook  slavery  and  death  for  the  sake  of  Jesus,  would  seem  to 
have  died  away.  Of  them,  it  once  could  be  said,  that,  no  sooner 
was  a  missionary  station  vacant,  than  there  was  an  eager  competi- 
tion who  should  have  the  honour  to  supply  it ;  for  then  it  was  counted 
an  honour,  for  the  love  they  bore  to  Christ,  to  succeed  to  a  dreary 
station,  amid  eternal  snows,  or  to  fill  the  places  of  those  who  had 
fallen  by  the  murderous  hand  of  the  savages  for  whose  sakes  they 
had  left  their  country  and  their  home.  But  now  there  is  a  difficulty 
in  finding  persons  willing  to  go  even  to  stations  of  ordinary  comfort 
and  ease.  In  this  state  of  matters,  what  avails  the  increase  of  mis- 
sionary funds?  Do  you  not  feel  that  there  is  a  loud  call  for  some- 
thing more  than  mere  subscriptions?  And  to  whom  can  this  appeal 
be  made,  but  to  the  members  of  missionary  associations  ?  And  on 
whom  can  it  be  urged  home,  more  forcibly  than  on  those  who  have 
professed  to  surrender  the  whole  energies  of  their  minds  and  their 
bodies  to  the  promulgation  of  the  religion  of  Christ  ? 

This  is  a  statement  of  facts,  and  such  a  statement,  I  am  sure, 
would  be  quite  sufficient  to  call  forth  the  willing  offer  of  his  services, 


ADDRESS    ON    MISSIONS.  387 

from  any  one  -vrho  believes  in  the  efficacy  of  missionary  exertion,  and 
who  is  not  tied  down  by  some  peculiar  circumstances  to  his  native 
land,  were  it  not  that  the  mind  is  driven  from  its  convictions  of 
duty,  by  prejudices  and  affections,  the  strongest  that  can  influence 
our  nature  —  and  I  will  even  say,  the  purest  that  can  oppose  the 
will  of  God.  Accordingly,  I  have  found  in  my  own  experience, 
that  even  those  who  are  most  liberal  in  their  donations  to  missionary 
societies,  and  most  active  in  spreading  among  their  friends  a  spirit 
of  good  will  to  this  work  of  Christian  philanthropy,  immediately 
abate  their  ardour,  and  turn  upon  another  tack,  so  soon  as  the  duty 
of  personal  engagement  is  pressed  home  upon  themselves,  or  even 
upon  any  of  their  near  relations.  Those  who  are  most  strenuous  in 
their  arguments  for  the  general  cause  of  missions,  instantly  start 
objections  to  the  proposal  of  themselves  becoming  missionaries.  A 
thousand  plausible  arguments  immediately  present  themselves.  Our 
own  country  has  much  higher  claims  upon  us,  all  are  not  yet  con- 
verted here.  Besides,  the  success  of  missionaries  has  not  been  very 
great ;  and  we  think  we  can  do  more  good  by  remaining  at  home. 
Such  arguments,  when  in  the  mouth  of  an  opponent  to  the  general 
cause  of  missions,  none  so  forward  to  answer,  or  so  eloquent  in  re- 
futing as  they ;  and  yet  to  the  very  same  refuges  do  they  betake 
themselves,  when  we  merely  carry  out  a  little  further,  and  make  a 
new  application-  of  their  own  previous  assertions. 

Nor  do  I  at  all  wonder  at  this,  though  I  cannot  apologize  for  it. 
The  ties  which  bind  us  to  our  country  and  our  home,  cannot  be  so 
easily  broken.  The  love  which  we  bear  to  parents,  and  sisters,  and 
brothers,  and  a  whole  circle  of  affectionate  friends,  is  perhaps  the 
strongest  passion  that  has  its  seat  in  the  human  breast ;  and  Chris- 
tianity, far  from  impairing,  refines  and  strengthens  the  attachment. 
The  land  which  gave  us  birth,  and  where  our  fathers  lived  before  us, 
and  the  companions  of  our  youth,  and  the  affectionate  guardians  of 
our  tender  infancy,  are  objects  which  most,  of  earthly  things,  deserve 
our  love.  There  is  but  one,  and  only  one  Being,  in  the  universe, 
whom  we  are  commanded  to  love  with  a  stronger  affection.  It  is 
little  wonder  then,  that  when  feelings  like  these — so  strong,  that  no 
time  or  distance  can  ever  efface  their  influence  ;  and  so  pure,  that 
piety  itself  imparts  to  them  a  tone  of  deeper  tenderness — that  when 
feelings  like  these  exert  an  opposing  influence,  even  the  most  devoted 


388  APPENDIX. 

Christian  should  be  startled  at  the  first  proposal  of  a  duty  which 
speaks  destruction  to  them  all. 

It  is  on  this  account  that  I  feel  the  statement  of  facts  I  have  laid 
before  you,  may  not  be  sufficient  to  call  forth  your  services  to  the 
work,  vrhich  loudly  calls  for  them,  and  in  which  you  profess  to  take 
an  interest.  It  is  only  on  this  account  that  I  feel  that  the  statement 
I  have  made  needs  to  be  enforced  by  arguments.  For  I  believe, 
that  to  a  mind  which  could  take  an  unprejudiced  view  of  the  matter, 
no  reasoning  would  be  required  to  convince  him  of  the  urgency  of 
the  appeal,  and  no  argument,  however  strong,  could  add  to  the  force 
of  the  simple  statement. 

I  feel,  however,  that  it  is  necessary  to  reason  with  you.  And  the 
main  argument  on  which  I  would  insist,  is  founded  on  the  command- 
ment of  our  Saviour ;  "  Go  ye  and  teach  all  nations,"  This  has 
often  been  repeated  by  the  advocates  of  missionary  exertion  ;  and 
though  it  may  thereby  have  lost  something  of  its  freshness,  it  has 
yet  lost  nothing  of  its  force.  I  consider  it  still  the  strong  hold  of 
the  missionary  cause.  But  I  am  inclined  to  take  a  more  extended 
view  of  the  precept.  Not  only  do  I  look  upon  this  little  verse  as  the 
great  foundation  on  which  all  arguments  for  missions  must  be  re- 
ceived, —  but  as  the  only  scriptural  authority  which  we  can  have  for 
preaching  the  gospel  at  all.  I  can  conceive  many  other  induce- 
ments, which  lead  men  in  our  own  land  to  profess,  or  pretend  to  be 
ministers  of  God.  But  I  believe,  that  every  truly  Christian  minister 
in  the  land,  must  rest  the  whole  authority  of  his  commission  on  this 
and  similar  commandments.  Noav  you  must  all  perceive  the  bear- 
ing of  this  argument.  It  places  our  own  country  exactly  on  the 
same  footing  with  the  other  nations  of  the  earth,  —  and  it  makes  the 
work  of  the  missionary  abroad,  and  the  minister  at  home,  one 
and  the  same  work.  The  world  is  the  field ;  and  the  preaching 
of  the  gospel  is  the  work  to  be  accomplished.  And  it  is  only  in  as 
far  as  Great  Britain  is  one  of  the  "  all  nations,^'  specified  in  the 
terms  of  the  commission,  that  we  have  any  warrant  from  scripture 
to  preach  the  gospel  here.  Grant  me  but  this  view  of  the  subject, 
and  the  question  comes  home  with  irresistible  force.  How  comes  it 
that  all  the  labourers  should  have  contrived  to  cluster  together  in 
one  little  corner  of  the  vineyard  ?  What  special  order  has  been 
given  by  the  Lord  about  this  little  island  on  which  we  dwell  ?    Or, 


ADDRESS    ON    MISSIONS.  389 

in  what  does  the  vast  superiority  of  its  claims  consist?  It  is  no- 
thing to  my  argument,  that  in  this  country,  an  ecclesiastical  estab- 
lishment has  poured  forth  its  benefices  over  the  land,  and  has  con- 
nected with  the  profession  of  the  Christian  ministry,  the  comforts  of 
civilized  life,  and  the  enjoyments  of  a  refined  society,  —  or  the  op- 
portunities of  literary  and  scientific  retirement.  With  the  hirelings 
that  have  crept  into  the  church,  at  present,  I  have  nothing  to  do. 
Neither  is  it  any  thing  to  me,  that  numerous  sectaries  with  which 
some  of  us  may  be  connected  have  spread  themselves  over  the  laud, 
and  are  struggling  for  the  superiority.  I  have  no  sympathy  with 
the  outcry  that  is  made  by  each  rival  party,  about  the  interests  of 
their  cause.  I  know  of  no  cause  that  demands  the  homage  of  our 
hearts,  and  our  services,  but  the  cause  of  Christ.  Now,  strip  our 
country  of  these,  and  other  accessory  distinctions,  which  I  think  all 
of  you  will  admit,  should  have  no  control  in  giving  it  a  higher  claim 
upon  our  Christian  services,  and  then  tell  me  wherein  it  difi'ers  from 
other  lands,  in  as  far  as  the  scriptural  argument  for  the  preaching 
of  the  gospel  is  concerned. 

I  am  persuaded,  that  with  all  our  knowledge  of  geography,  we 
are  accustomed,  from  irresistible  prejudices,  to  rate  the  extent  and 
importance  of  our  own  country  much  too  high.  Now,  in  order  to 
dissipate  this  delusion,  and  give  the  subject  a  more  manageable  ap- 
pearance, let  us  try  if  we  can  take  a  reduced  sketch  of  the  world, 
diminishing  every  thing  proportionally,  just  as  a  land  surveyor  finds 
it  convenient  to  draw  upon  paper  a  reduced  representation  of  the 
estate  which  he  has  been  measuring. 

Let  us  imagine,  that  instead  of  the  world,  a  single  country  had 
been  pointed  out  by  our  Lord  as  the  field  of  action.  And,  since  we 
are  most  familiar  with  our  own  land,  let  us  just  suppose  that  the 
particular  country  specified,  was  the  island  of  Great  Britain :  and 
that,  instead  of  the  command  to  go  forth  into  all  nations,  and  preach, 
the  gospel  to  every  creature,  —  the  order  had  been,  to  go  throughout 
all  the  counties  of  this  island,  and  preach  the  gospel  to  every  in- 
habitant. I  find,  that  on  a  scale  which  would  make  the  population 
of  Great  Britain  represent  that  of  the  world,  the  population  of  such 
a  county  as  Mid  Lothian  might  be  taken,  as  a  sufficiently  accurate 
representation  of  the  population  of  our  own  land. 

In  order  then,  to  have  a  just  picture  of  the  present  state  of  the 

33* 


390  APPENDIX.' 

world,  only  conceive,  that  all  -who  had  received  the  above  commis- 
sion, somehow  or  other,  had  contrived  to  gather  themselves  together 
within  the  limits  of  this  single  county.  Imagine  to  yourselves,  all 
the  other  divisions  of  Scotland  and  England  immersed  in  heathen 
darkness  ;  and  that  by  these  Christians,  who  had  so  unaccountably 
happened  to  settle  down  together  in  one  little  spot,  no  effort  was 
made  to  evangelize  the  rest  of  the  land,  except  by  collecting  a  little 
money,  and  sending  forth  two  or  three  itinerants,  to  walk  single- 
handed  through  the  length  and  breadth  of  the  country. 

I  shall  be  told,  however,  that  illustration  is  not  argument ;  and  so 
distorted  have  our  views  been  on  this  subject,  that  you  will  be  dis- 
posed to  think  this  a  perfect  caricature  of  the  matter.  But  I  deny 
that  this  is  an  illustration  at  all.  It  is  merely  a  representation,  on  a 
reduced  scale  ;  and  I  believe  you  will  find  it  to  be  a  correct  repre- 
sentation of  the  state  of  the  world.  It  is  no  argument  against  the 
conclusions  of  the  practical  mathematician,  that  his  calculations 
have  had  to  do,  not  with  the  very  objects  or  doctrines  themselves 
about  which  he  determines,  but  with  proportional  representations 
of  them  which  he  has  delineated.  The  very  same  thing  holds  here. 
And  if  you  but  grant  the  correctness  of  my  representation,  then  the 
deductions  made  from  it  are  every  whit  as  conclusive,  as  if  our  minda 
could  so  expand,  as  to  do  away  with  the  necessity  of  the  represen- 
tation, and  could  gather  their  conclusions  with  as  much  ease  from 
the  consideration  of  the  objects  themselves  about  which  we  reascm. 

You  Avill  permit  me,  therefore,  to  argue  from  the  representation  a 
little  further. 

"Were  I  to  ask  you  what,  in  the  case  we  supposed,  you  would  im- 
agine to  be  the  duty  of  the  ministers  who  had  clustered  within  the 
limits  of  a  single  county,  when  their  commission  embraced  every 
county  in  the  land ;  you  would  at  once  reply,  that  they  ought  to 
spread  themselves  over  the  face  of  the  country,  till  every  corner  of 
the  field  shared  equally  in  the  benefit  of  their  ministrations.  Now  I 
am  almost  afraid  to  transfer  this  question  from  the  representation  to 
the  actual  case  before  us.  Not,  but  that  I  believe  I  might  most  legi- 
timately do  so,  but  because  I  feel  that  I  cannot  carry  along  with  me 
the  sympathies  of  the  Christian  world.  In  fact,  I  am  arguing  at 
present  for  a  much  humbler  effort,  than  the  fair  answer  to  such  a 
question  would  land  us  in.     To  return  to  our  ideal  field  of  opera- 


ADDRESS    ON    MISSIONS.  391 

tion,  let  us  S'lppose,  that  even  the  little  band  of  itinerants  began  to 
fail,  and  a  difficulty  was  found  to  recruit  their  numbers.  Let  us  sup- 
pose, that  the  funds  collected  were  sufficient  to  send  forth  more,  if 
any  could  but  be  found  who  were  willing  to  go.  Let  us  try  if  we 
can  fancy  any  thing  in  the  shape  of  an  excuse,  which  our  professed 
evangelis's  could  allege,  for  still  refusing  to  quit  the  little  territory 
to  which  they  had  all  along  so  pertinaciously  adhered.  Some  might 
say,  they  did  not  think  it  was  the  proper  time  to  go  forth.  You 
might  meet  them  with  the  unlimited  command  of  their  Master,  and 
especially  his  promise,  to  be  always  with  them  in  the  work  to  which 
the  commandment  called  them.  Others  might  say,  they  did  not 
think  those  who  had  gone  forth  already,  had  taken  the  right  plan, 
and  might  even  urge,  in  support  of  this,  that  actually  the  two  or 
three  preachers  who  had  been  sent  forth  had  not  yet  converted  the 
country.  The  direct  reply  to  such,  would  be,  —  The  error  of  another 
is  no  apology  for  your  disobedience.  It  is  only  a  louder  call  to  you 
to  fulfil  the  command  of  your  Lord,  by  some  plan  which  will  be  more 
agreeable  to  his  will.  Such  excuses  might  be  framed  by  those  who 
had  never  co-operated  in  the  little  effort  that  had  been  made.  But 
can  you  conceive,  that  those  who  had  given  their  entire  consent  to 
the  plan  itself,  and  had  been  zealous  in  sending  forth  others,  could 
have  any  imaginable  excuse  for  shrinking  back,  when  their  per- 
sonal services  were  called  for  ?  Let  us  try  if  we  can  invent  any. 
They  might  tell  us,  there  were  yet  many  within  the  little  sphere 
they  had  allotted  to  themselves  who  were  yet  unconverted.  They 
might  bear  witness  to  their  own  negligence,  by  telling  us,  that  ac- 
tually there  were  still  some  within  their  own  sphere  of  action,  to 
whom  the  message  they  had  received  from  the  Lord,  had  never  been 
fairly  delivered.  They  might  express  their  apprehension,  that  if  they 
began  to  go  forth  over  the  face  of  the  country,  the  little  spot  which 
they  had  hitherto  cultivated  with  so  much  care,  might  hereafter  be 
overlooked  in  the  wide  field  which  lay  before  them,  and  come  to  be 
altogether  neglected.  And  some  might  even  have  the  effrontery  to 
tell  us,  that  they  quite  felt  the  urgency  of  the  call,  to  go  forth  over 
the  face  of  the  country ;  but  for  their  part,  they  had  rather  stay  at 
home,  and  persuade  others  to  go. 

You   feel    that    there    is    something    ludicrous    in    the   very   de- 
scription.    There  is  such  an  utter  discrepancy  between  the  command 


392  APPENDIX. 

and  the  professed  obedience  of  it ;  between  the  work  to  be  perform- 
ed, and  the  scantiness  of  the  means  that  are  expected  to  accomplish 
it ;  between  the  obvious  call  of  duty,  and  the  frivolous  excuses  by 
which  they  are  evaded.  Now,  would  this  were  but  an  imaginary 
picture ;  but  it  must  recommend  itself  to  all  of  you  as  too  true  a 
representation  of  the  present  state  of  the  world,  and  of  the  kind  of 
obedience  which  the  disciples  of  Christ  render  to  the  last  command 
of  their  Lord  and  Saviour. 

I  have  thus  tried  to  set  before  you,  and  illustrate  my  main  argu- 
ment, that  the  world  is  one  field,  and  consequently  that  every  min- 
ister of  Christ  should  be  ready  to  go  to  that  part  of  the  field,  wherever 
it  be,  which  stands  most  in  need  of  his  services.  You  must  perceive 
that  we  have  taken  it  upon  ourselves  to  circumscribe  most  unwar- 
rantably the  limits  of  our  commission ;  and  that  in  these  days  no- 
thing adequate  to  the  fulfilment  of  our  Lord's  command  has  so  much 
as  been  attempted.  I  have  pressed  upon  you  the  loud  demand  that 
there  is  at  present  for  labourers,  in  order  to  maintain  even  the  com- 
paratively feeble  efibrt  which  the  Christian  world  has  of  late  put 
forth  ;  and  you  perceived  that  the  objections  to  this  appeal  just 
hinted  at,  appeared  sufficiently  frivolous.  I  am  aware,  however, 
that  on  these,  or  similar  objections,  the  whole  force  of  your  refusal 
to  obey  this  call,  must  rest ;  and,  therefore,  I  feel  it  necessary  to 
take  each  of  them  singly  into  more  serious  consideration. 

I  shall  say  nothing  concerning  the  argument  that  the  heathen  are 
not  in  a  fit  state  for  receiving  the  gospel,  and  other  similar  objec- 
tions. These  are  adduced  only  by  the  opponents  of  missionary  so- 
cieties. I  take  it  for  granted  at  present  that  I  am  addressing  those 
■who  give  their  full  assent  to  the  duty  of  sending  the  gospel  to  the 
heathen,  and  who  give  their  decided  approbation  to  the  plans  that 
are  in  operation  for  the  accomplishment  of  this  grand  object.  The 
arguments  which  I  mean  to  consider  at  present,  are  those  which  are 
urged  by  the  supporters  of  missionary  operations,  when  a  demand 
is  made  for  their  own  personal  services.  Among  tfie  most  prominent 
of  these,  is  the  assertion,  that  all  are  not  yet  converted  in  our  own 
land,  and  therefore  our  own  country  has  the  first  claim  upon  our 
regard.  The  terms  of  the  argument  are  very  true,  but  the  conclu- 
sion drawn  from  it  I  believe  to  be  false.  It  is  a  lamentable  fact, 
that  so  many  in  our  own  land  are  not  under  the  power  of  the  gospel. 


ADDRESS    ON    MISSIONS.  393 

But  why?  In  by  far  the  greater  number  of  instances,  because 
they  wijl  not  come  unto  Christ  that  they  may  have  life.  Have  they 
not  had  the  message  of  mercy  prochiimed  to  them,  and  what  more  can 
the  messenger  do  ?  Have  they  not  been  plied.  Sabbath  after  Sabbath, 
■with  the  call  to  repent  and  believe  the  gospel,  and  if  they  still  re- 
main impenitent,  what  more  can  man  accomplish?  Can  we  hope  to 
do  more  than  apostles,  with  all  their  miraculous  powers,  and  their 
unwavering  faith,  could  effect?  When  the  gospel  was  declared  by 
those  extraordinary  men  who  had  trod  this  earth  in  the  company 
of  their  incarnate  God ;  and  who,  after  he  left  them,  were  visited 
with  the  supernatural  endowments  of  his  Spirit,  —  the  account  of 
their  success  is,  that  "  some  believed  the  things  which  were  spoken, 
and  some  believed  not/'  And  as  long  as  the  Scripture  doctrine  of 
election  holds  true,  it  will  still  be  found,  wherever  this  gospel  is  pro- 
claimed, that  some  will  receive  the  message,  and  some  will  most  ob- 
stinately reject  it.  Far  be  it  from  me  to  adduce  the  doctrine  of 
election  as  a  reason  why  we  should  ever  cease  to  ply  with  all  our 
earnestness,  and  admonish  with  all  our  tenderness,  the  most  hardened 
unbeliever,  or  the  veriest  scoffer  at  sacred  things.  But  I  am  quite 
warranted  in  adducing  it,  in  order  to  show  the  f\illacy  of  the  expec- 
tation, that  we  shall  ever  be  able,  by  any  concentration  of  our  en- 
ergies to  any  sphere  however  narrow,  to  convert  all  who  dwell  with- 
in these  limits,  to  the  truth  of  the  gospel.  We  do  well  to  consider 
whether  by  such  expectations  we  be  not  opposing  the  purposes  of 
God.  He  has  given  us  no  reason  to  indulge  the  hope  that  he  will 
choose  his  people  exclusively  from  our  nation,  although  that  nation 
has  been  favoured  very  highly.  He  has  said  that  he  will  take  one 
of  a  city  and  two  of  a  family ;  and  it  is  said  of  the  redeemed  in 
heaven,  that  they  have  been  gathered  "  out  of  every  kindred,  and 
tongue,  and  people,  and  nation." 

But  it  may  be  said,  that  I  am  not  giving  a  fair  view  of  the  case, 
for  that  very  many  in  our  own  land  have  never  had  the  message  of 
mercy  fairly  proclaimed  to  them.  This  is  too  true,  and  a  disgrace  it 
is  to  the  ministers,  and  even  the  private  Christians  of  Britain.  How 
easily  might  the  numerous  evangelical  ministers  of  the  land,  or  at 
least  the  evangelical  ministers  among  the  dissenters  who  are  hind- 
ered by  no  ecclesiastical  authority  from  preaching  the  truth  where 
they  think  it  has  not  been  fully  declared :  how  easily,  I  say,  might 


394  APPENDIX. 

they  dispel  the  ignorance  that  yet  darkens  the  spiritual  atmosphere 
of  this  enlightened  country?  But,  after  all,  I  do  not  feel  the  force 
of  this  claim  when  weighed  against  the  claim  of  those  who  are 
literally  perishing  for  lack  of  knowledge.  I  do  believe  that  every 
inhabitant  of  our  land  has  heard  so  much,  as  makes  him  utterly  in- 
excusable if  he  be  ignorant  of  the  way  of  acceptance  before  God. 
If  he  sits  under  a  minister  who  perverts,  or  but  imperfectly  declares 
the  gospel,  he  has  the  standard  of  truth  in  his  hand,  and  by  the 
Bible  he  can,  and  he  ought  to  try  the  doctrine,  whether  it  be  of  God. 
If  he  have  not  a  Bible  himself,  he  has  seen  it  in  the  possession  of 
others,  or  at  least  he  has  heard  that  there  is  such  a  book,  which 
many  believe  to  be  a  revelation  from  Heaven.  And,  finally,  even  in 
the  haunts  of  the  most  abandoned  depravity,  where  ignorance  and 
wickedness  may  have  spread  a  gloom  as  dismal  as  the  darkness  of 
paganism  itself,  even  there  the  wretched  inmates  are  still  reminded 
of  a  God  and  a  Saviour ;  if  by  nothing  else,  yet  by  the  weekly  re- 
turn of  a  day  of  unusual  stillness,  and  by  the  oft  repeated  and  well 
known  invitations  of  the  Sabbath  bell.  But  when  you  urge  as  an 
excuse  for  remaining  in  this  land,  that  some  within  its  borders  are 
yet  ignorant  of  the  terms  of  mercy,  do  you,  indeed,  mean  to  wander 
from  parish  to  parish,  and  illumine  every  dark  corner  on  which  the 
light  of  truth  has  not  yet  shone  ?  Or  will  you  venture,  where  none 
have  dared  to  venture  before  you,  within  the  receptacles  of  vice  and 
infamy,  to  proclaim  the  tale  of  a  Saviour's  sufferings  to  those  who 
may  have  never  heard  of  his  name  ?  If  you  will  not,  or  cannot  do 
these  things,  then  this  argument  is  no  argument  for  you. 

Closely  connected  with  this  objection,  that  all  are  not  yet  con- 
verted in  our  own  land,  there  is  the  apprehension  lest  a  spirit  of 
missionary  zeal  should  damp  the  spirit  of  exertion  at  home,  and 
that  our  own  country  should  suffer  from  our  attention  to  foreign 
lands.  The  spirit  which  excites  this  apprehension  for  the  eternal 
welfare  of  our  countrymen,  deserves  the  highest  commendation. 
But  depend  upon  it  the  fear  is  quite  unfounded.  I  am  quite  willing 
to  allow  that  our  kinsmen  according  to  the  flesh  have  the  first  claim 
upon  our  Christian  sympathy.  It  is  true  that,  as  the  messengers  of 
Christ,  and  as  far  as  the  command  of  our  Saviour  is  concerned,  the 
world  is  all  before  us,  and  no  country  has  any  peculiar  claim  upon 
our  regard.     But  as  men  who  are  linked  to  those  around  us  by  bondg 


ADDRESS    ON    MISSIONS.  395 

so  strong  as  those  of  relationship,  and  all  the  other  connections  which 
form  the  cement  of  civil  society,  there  is  no  doubt  something  very 
peculiar  in  the  claims  of  our  native  land.  To  true  patriotism  I  am 
willing  to  allow  all  the  eulogiums  that  poets  and  orators  have  heaped 
upon  it.  The  love  of  our  country  is  a  very  noble  affection.  But 
there  is  a  thing  which  has  been  misnamed  patriotism,  which  consists 
not  so  much  in  loving  our  own  country,  as  in  despising  and  disre- 
garding every  other.  But  surely  it  but  ill  accords  with  the  liberal 
sentiment  of  the  present  age,  to  despise  any  brother  of  the  human 
family,  because  he  has  not  sworn  allegiance  to  the  same  sovereign 
with  ourselves ;  or  because,  forsooth,  he  happens  to  be  separated 
from  us  by  some  river  and  mountain,  or  imaginary  political  boun- 
dary. Time  was,  when  in  our  own  little  country,  every  petty  chief 
was  a  monarch  ;  and  whatever  may  be  the  associations  that  romance 
has  gathered  around  these  olden  times,  every  generous  mind  must 
look  back  with  detestation  and  disgust  on  that  narrow-minded  spirit 
of  clanship,  which  could^tie  down  the  affections  of  an  individual  to 
the  few  families  that  happened  to  bear  the  same  name,  or  to  serve 
the  same  lord  with  himself,  and  which  pronounced  him  the  noblest 
of  his  clan,  who  hated  with  the  deadliest  malice  the  whole  world 
besides.  But  what  is  this  pretended  patriotism  but  the  dross  of  this 
same  detestable  spirit.  We  surely  have  not  need  to  be  told  in  this 
age  of  enlightened  liberality,  that  God  has  made  of  one  blood,  all 
nations  that  are  on  the  face  of  the  earth.  And  if  the  spirit  of  the 
age  cannot  reclaim  us,  Christianity  at  least  should  reclaim  us  from 
such  bigoted  narrowness.  A  spirit  of  true  patriotism  is  in  perfect 
harmony  with  a  spirit  of  the  most  extended  liberality.  Your  be- 
nevolence must  overflow  the  narrow  channel,  ere  it  can  dilate  itself 
over  a  wider  surface.  Just  tell  me  of  a  man  that  he  is  a  general 
philanthropist,  and  I  can  immediately  conceive  of  that  man,  that 
his  family  and  social  affections  are  stronger  than  those  of  other  in- 
dividuals. There  may  be  exceptions  to  this  rule,  it  is  true ;  for  it 
is  quite  possible  to  find  monsters  in  the  moral  world,  as  well  as  in 
the  natural.  All  I  assert  is,  that  it  is  the  general  tendency  of  an 
extended  benevolence  to  unite  us  in  closer  affection  than  ever,  to 
those  objects  which  have  a  nearer  relation  to  us.  And,  indeed,  in  the 
late  extension  of  our  Christian  philanthropy  to  other  lands,  this 
principle  has  been  most  beautifully  illustrated.     Whence  sprung  our 


896  APPENDIX. 

tract  societies,  our  school  societies,  our  itinerant  societies,  and  the 
other  institutions  that  are  no^v  in  operation  for  instructing  the  igno- 
rant of  our  own  land?  They  have  all  originated  in  the  impulse  that 
was  given  to  Christian  philanthropy,  by  the  formation  of  the  Mis- 
sionary Society.  The  stream  of  Christian  benevolence,  vehen  it 
sought  its  way  to  the  ends  of  the  earth,  first  filled  and  overflowed 
the  reservoir  that  had  contained  it.  The  very  consideration  of  the 
case  of  those  who  were  further  removed  from  them,  made  the  Chris- 
tians of  our  land  take  a  deeper  interest  in  the  situation  of  those  who 
were  connected  with  them  by  stronger  ties.  It  is  on  this  account 
that  I  would  have  you  to  extend  your  views  still  further,  till  not  only 
would  I  have  you  think  of  our  country  as  a  little  spot,  when  com- 
pared with  the  world,  that  so  you  may  feel  the  close  relationship 
that  exists  between  ourselves  and  our  fellow-countrymen ;  but  I 
would  have  you  think  of  this  globe  itself,  on  which  we  dwell,  as  but 
one  among  the  myriads  that  travel  with  it  in  their  mighty  journeys, 
through  boundless  immensity.  And  then  vfill  you  begin  to  feel  that 
the  whole  human  race  forms  but  one  little  iamily  in  the  universe  of 
God.  We  shall  thus  yet  forget  those  little  distinctions  which  the 
ambition  and  avarice  of  man  have  made  upon  the  face  of  our  globe. 
We  shall  feel  ourselves  to  be  denizens  of  this  earth,  and  the  inhabi- 
tants of  the  universe.  We  shall  feel  that  we  are  united  to  our  fel- 
low-men by  stronger  ties  than  the  indefinite  relation  which  subsists 
among  all  the  creatures  of  God.  Are  we  not  united  by  the  ties  of  a 
common  nature  ?  Are  we  not  involved  in  a  common  calamity,  in 
that  we  have  forfeited  the  favour  of  our  God,  —  a  calamity  which, 
for  aught  we  know,  may  have  happened  to  our  race  alone,  of  all  the 
families  of  the  universe?  And  is  not  a  common  pardon  ofi"ered,  and 
has  not  a  common  Saviour  died  for  us  all  ? 

I  have  thus  tried  to  answer  the  objections  that  spring  from  an 
overweening  partiality  to  our  own  country,  and  from  the  ignorance 
and  unbelief  that  still  exists  there.  But  by  far  the  most  triumphant 
answer  to  all  these  arguments  is  founded  on  the  authority  of  apos- 
tolic example.  Paul  the  apostle  had  a  much  stronger  attachment  to 
his  country  than  any  modern  patriot  can  boast.  He  wished  himself 
even  accursed  from  Christ,  for  his  brethren's  sake,  and  yet  he  gloried 
in  being  the  apostle  of  the  Gentiles.  But  there  were  feelings  stronger 
than  patriotism,  that  bound  the  early  disciples  to  the  land  of  their 


ADDRESS    ON    MISSIONS.  397 

fathers  ;  feelings  which  none  but  an  Israelite  could  experience.  Their 
country  was  the  favoured  land  of  heaven.  Their  countrymen  were 
the  chosen  people  of  God.  And  if  any  may  urge  as  an  excuse  for 
lingering  in  the  land  of  their  nativity,  that  all  their  countrymen  had 
not  yet  embraced  the  gospel,  assuredly  the  apostles  and  early  evan- 
gelists might  have  used  this  plea.  But  far  different  was  their  con- 
duct. They  thought  it  enough  to  have  fairly  offered  the  terms  of 
mercy  to  their  countrymen,  and  when  some  rejected  the  message 
"which  they  delivered,  so  far  from  thinking  this  a  reason  why  they 
should  still  remain,  they  considered  it  as  the  very  signal  for  their 
departure.  They  thought  that  those  who  had  never  had  the  offer  of 
God's  favour,  had  now  a  prior  claim  upon  their  regard  ;  and  they 
addressed  their  countrymen  in  such  language  as  the  following:  "It 
was  necessary  that  the  word  of  God  should  first  have  been  spoken  to 
you ;  but  seeing  ye  put  it  from  you,  and  judge  yourselves  unworthy 
of  everlasting  life,  lo,  we  turn  to  the  Gentiles.^' 

There  is  still  one  other  argument,  perhaps  the  most  plausible  of 
all,  against  engaging  in  the  work  of  missions,  and  to  which  I  beg 
very  briefly  to  advert.  It  is,  that  in  the  present  state  of  matters,  we 
can  do  more  good  at  home  than  abroad.  A  minister  in  this  country, 
it  is  said,  may  make  as  many,  and  sometimes  more  converts,  than 
the  missionary  in  a  heathen  country.  And  the  question  is  trium- 
phantly put,  whether  the  soul  that  is  converted  at  the  distance  of 
some  thousand  miles  from  our  land  be  more  precious  than  the  soul 
■which  is  converted  in  our  own  neighbourhood  ;  and  whether  it  be 
not  a  matter  of  as  great  thankfulness  and  joy  that  a  soul  has  been 
delivered  from  a  state  of  self-delusion,  though  living  in  a  country 
called  Christian,  as  that  a  heathen  has  been  turned  from  idols  to 
serve  the  living  God.  The  argument  has  a  great  semblance  of  fair- 
ness, but  I  think  we  shall  find  it  to  be  unsound. 

In  the  first  place,  it  is  not  true,  that  in  general  the  success  of  min- 
isters at  home  is  greater  than  that  of  those  who  labour  in  heathen 
lands.  And,  secondly,  though  it  be  allowed  that  the  conversion  of 
a  soul  is  not  more  acceptable  to  God,  because  of  the  place  where  the 
conversion  is  wrought,  yet  there  is  much  in  the  case  of  those  who 
first  turn  to  the  Lord  from  a  nation  of  idolaters,  that  may  well  fill 
our  hearts  with  unusual  joy  and  thankfulness,  inasmuch  as  these  are 
the  Jirst  fruits  of  a  hi-therto  uncultivated  field,  and  may  be  regarded 
34 


398  APPENDIX. 

as  the  earnest  of  an  abundant  harvest.  In  the  same  manner,  you 
can  easily  conceive,  how  a  few  grains  of  wheat,  though  compara- 
tively little  worth  in  a  cultivated  country,  might  acquire  an  im- 
mense value  in  a  new  colony,  where  no  other  seed  could  be  obtained. 
Besides,  there  is  much  in  preparing  the  way.  We  are  not  to  sup- 
pose, that  the  conversion  of  a  world  is  to  be  the  work  of  one  genera- 
tion. The  ground  must  be  cleared,  ere  we  can  so  much  as  sow  the 
seed,  and  this  must  be  a  season  of  toil,  and  difficulty,  and  discour- 
agement. 

You  would  perceive  the  fallacy  of  the  objection  now  under  con- 
sideration, in  almost  any  case  but  the  one  before  us.  Let  us  sup- 
pose an  accommodation  of  our  Saviour's  parable  of  the  vineyard,  to 
the  present  circumstances  of  the  world.  Imagine  to  yourselves  all 
the  husbandmen  to  have  settled  down  in  one  little  fertile  corner  of 
the  vineyard,  and  to  have  left  all  the  rest  with  the  soil  unbroken, 
covered  with  briars  and  thorns,  and  trodden  down  by  the  beasts  of 
the  forest.  When  called  to  account  for  their  negligence,  you  may 
conceive  them  to  answer:  "Our  fathers  have  planted  vines,  and 
they  have  yielded  fruit  luxuriantly;  and  we  truly  thought,  that  we 
were  acting  best  for  your  advantage,  in  choosing  that  spot  for  our 
labours,  where  the  fruit  was  most  abundant."  Who  would  not  see, 
in  such  a  case,  that  their  own  ease  had  been  consulted,  and  not 
their  master's  interest?  And  who  could  help  the  suspicion,  that 
they  wanted  to  press  into  their  own  cup  of  the  overflowing  vintage  ? 

I  have  thus  tried  to  set  before  you  the  present  state  of  the  mission- 
ary cause,  and  the  loud  call  w^hich  there  is  for  efficient  labourers.  I 
have  stated  to  you  the  great  argument,  that  the  world  is  one  field, 
and  that  our  Saviour's  command  is  not  fulfilled,  so  long  as  the  dis- 
tribution of  his  ministers  over  this  field  is  so  very  unequal.  And, 
finally,  I  have  tried  to  answer  some  of  the  objections  that  are  made 
to  personal  engagement  in  the  work. 

The  matter,  some  time  ago,  presented  itself  very  forcibly  to  my 
own  mind,  and  I  felt  that  it  at  least  demanded  my  serious  considera- 
tion. As  I  have  proceeded  with  my  enquiries  on  the  subject,  the 
difficulties  seemed  to  have  gathered  thicker  on  the  prospect,  but  the 
convictions  of  duty  have  grown  stronger  too.  The  arguments  for 
personal  engagement,  seem  to  me  to  have  acquired  the  strength  of  a 
demonstration.     I  have,  therefore,  resolved,  with  the  help  of  God, 


ADDRESS    ON    MISSIONS.  399 

to  devote  my  life  to  the  cause  ;  and  I  have  only  solemnly  to  charge 
every  one  o£  you,  who  are  looking  forward  to  the  ministry  of  Christ, 
to  take  this  matter  into  most  serious  consideration. 

Some  of  you  may  think  that  I  have  not  satisfactorily  answered 
the  objections  which  may  be  urged  against  personally  engaging  in 
the  work,  and  other  objections  may  possibly  present  themselves  to 
some  of  you.  But  I  ask  you,  seriously  to  examine  whether  there 
do  not  lurk  under  these  objections,  a  want  of  devotedness  to  God, 
and  a  secret  love  of  the  world.  Why  is  it  that  there  is  an  eager 
competition  for  the  ministerial  office  in  our  own  land.,  where  a  com- 
fortable salary  is  annexed  to  the  preaching  of  the  gospel?  And  why 
is  it  that  the  love  of  country  can  be  overcome,  whenever  any  worldly 
advantage  is  to  be  gained  ?  But  when  the  gospel  is  to  be  preached 
where  there  is  no  reward,  but  the  reward  of  winning  souls  to  Christ ; 
and  no  honour,  but  the  honour  that  cometh  from  God ;  there  alone 
the  ranks  of  the  labourers  are  thin,  and  there  deficiencies  can  with 
difficulty  be  supplied.  I  mean  no  uncharitable  insinuations  respectr 
ing  your  motives,  but  I  ask  you,  if  too  much  reason  has  not  been 
given  for  the  outcry  that  has  been  made  against  priestcraft,  by  the 
■worldling  or  the  infidel ! 

Do  not  think  I  wish  to  press  you  into  this  service.  It  is  a  maxim, 
which  much  experience  has  taught  the  Moravians,  never  to  persuade 
any  man  to  become  a  missionary.  I  have  laid  the  matter  before 
you,  and  I  leave  it  with  your  own  conscience,  as  you  soon  must 
answer  before  God. 

I  have  the  happiness  to  mention  to  you,  that  your  respected  secre- 
tary, of  last  year,  has  given  himself  to  the  work ;  and  I  know  that 
there  are  some  present  who  have  felt  the  urgency  of  the  call. 

I  am  not  without  the  hope,  that  even  from  this  unnoticed  associa- 
tion, a  little  band  of  devoted  labourers  may  be  raised  up,  who  shall 
carry  the  name  of  their  Saviour  to  the  ends  of  the  earth,  and  shall 
meet  in  another  world,  to  receive  that  high  reward,  which  is  reserved 
for  those  who  have  left  father,  and  mother,  and  sister,  and  brother, 
and  houses,  and  lands  for  Christ's  sake,  and  the  gospel's. 


400  APPENDIX. 


ADDRESS  TO  A  SOCIETY  OF  YOUNG  MEN,  WHOM  I  WISH  TO 
MEET  WITH  ME,  ONCE  A  WEEK,  FOR  RELIGIOUS  INSTRUC- 
TION. 

As  I  have  called  you  together,  my  friends,  with  only  a  very  gene- 
ral intimation  of  what  we  propose  to  do  at  these  weekly  meetings,  it 
may  be  necessary  before  we  enter  on  the  regular  exercises,  briefly 
to  explain  to  you  the  design  and  nature  of  the  association,  which  we 
are  met  this  evening  to  form,  and  the  motives  which  have  induced 
me  to  attempt  its  formation. 

You  know  that  the  age  in  which  we  live  is  very  gloriously  distin- 
guished by  the  exertions  which  are  making  for  the  religious  improve- 
ment of  the  whole  world.  In  former  ages.  Christians  seem  to  have 
had  so  much  to  do  in  providing  for  their  own  spiritual  comfort,  and 
fleeing  from  the  hand  of  the  persecutor,  that  we  cannot  wonder  if 
they  thought  but  little  of  the  wants  of  others;  or,  thinking  of  them, 
could  do  but  little  to  relieve  them.  In  these  ages  of  ignorance  and 
bigotry,  the  flame  of  Christian  benevolence  was  damped,  but  its  fire 
was  not  wholly  extinguished ;  and  when  civil  and  religious  liberty 
were  again  restored,  it  burst  forth  with  fresh  and  undecayed  vigour, 
from  the  grasp  of  that  oppression  which  had  for  a  while  restrained 
its  energy.  In  these  days,  and  in  the  happy  country  in  which  we 
live,  we  see  the  principles  of  the  gospel  of  peace  left  (to  a  certain  ex- 
tent at  least)  to  their  own  free  operation,  n.o  longer  adulterated  so 
much  as  formerly,  by  the  allurements  of  human  ambition,  and  no 
longer  in  any  degree  restrained  by  the  threatenings  of  human  power. 
You  live  in  a  neighbourhood  that  may  remind  you  of  other  days; 
"  The  hattle  of  BotJnoell  Brig"  is  not  yet  forgotten.  May  it  be  re- 
membered only  to  inspire  us  with  thankfulness,  that  we  need  no 
longer  to  Jight  for  our  religious  privileges ;  but  can  each  of  us  sit 
under  his  own  vine,  and  his  own  fig-tree,  none  daring  to  make  us 
afraid.  At  length  men  have  happily  begun  to  see,  that  carnal  wea- 
pons are  altogether  unfit,  either  for  the  defence  or  furtherance  of  a 
kingdom,  M'hich  is  spiritual ;  and  the  happy  effects  of  unrestrained 
liberty  of  conscience,  and  freedom  of  discussion,  are  universally  felt 


ADDRESS   ON  RELIGIOUS   INSTRUCTION.      401 

and  acknowledged,  by  those  who  differ  most  widely  in  almost  all 
other  opinions.  In  these  circumstances,  we  see  that  spirit  of  Chris- 
tian philanthropy  again  awakened  in  the  breasts  of  modern  Chris- 
tians, which  glowed  so  fervently  in  the  hearts  of  the  early  believers. 
The  effects  of  religious  liberty  on  the  revival  of  Christian  benevolence, 
must  forcibly  strike  those  of  you  who  are  at  all  acquainted  with  the 
history  of  philanthropy,  during  the  last  fifty  years. 

Within  that  short  period,  many  institutions  have  been  formed, 
most  diversified  indeed  in  their  modes  of  operation,  and  in  the  more 
immediate  purposes  for  which  they  are  intended,  but  all  having  for 
their  grand  and  ultimate  object,  the  glory  of  God,  and  the  best  inter- 
ests of  man.  These  institutions  do  not  confine  their  operations  to  one 
country  or  to  one  class  of  individuals.  The  field  of  their  benevolent 
exertions  extends  over  the  whole  habitable  globe ;  and  they  embrace 
within  the  range  of  their  benefits,  people  of  almost  every  rank  and 
every  condition.  We  might  enumerate  among  those  intended  for  the 
temporal  and  religious  improvement  of  our  own  countrymen,  Bible 
Societies,  whose  operations  are  also  extended  to  other  nations,  whose 
object  is  to  furnish  wdth  the  word  of  God  such  as  could  not,  or  would 
not  otherwise  obtain  it;  Home  Missionary  Societies,  for  sending 
the  preachers  of  that  word  to  such  as  are  without  the  range  of  an 
evangelical  ministry ;  Religious  Tract  Societies,  for  breaking  down 
religious  publications  into  a  suitable  form,  and  furnishing  them  at 
reduced  prices,  to  encourage  an  extensive  circulation  ;  and  had  we 
time  to  extend  our  attention  to  those  institutions  which  have  an 
especial  regard  to  the  temporal  welfare  of  our  fellow-men,  you  know 
well  that  we  might  introduce  a  lengthened  list  of  charitable  institu- 
tions, of  which  not  the  least  interesting,  or  the  least  important,  are 
those  Mechanics'  Institutions,  which  are  now  forming  in  the  most 
populous  parts  of  the  country,  and  which  bid  fair  to  make  the  labour- 
ing classes  tread  upon  the  heels  of  their  superiors,  in  the  walks  of 
science  and  philosophy.  But  our  business  at  present  is  with  reli- 
gious institutions,  and  we  remark,  that  besides  those  we  have  men- 
tioned, which  are  especially  designed  for  those  who  are  grown  up  to 
manhood,  we  have  also  Sabbath-schools,  with  all  their  appendages, 
for  the  religious  instruction  of  children. 

While  these  institutions  embrace  a  field  so  vast,  and  a  variety  of 
character  so  diversified,  we  cannot  wonder  if  there  should  be  some 

34* 


402  APPENDIX. 

peculiarity  of  disposition  or  circumstances  to  which  the  operations  of 
none  of  them  are  specifically  adapted.  Such  a  peculiarity,  I  con- 
ceive, is  to  be  found  in  the  case  of  young  people  of  our  own  age.  We 
are,  generally  speaking,  too  young  to  sympathize  with  the  religious 
feelings  of  the  old ;  and  on  the  other  hand,  we  are  too  old  to  submit 
to  the  discipline  of  institutions  which  are  intended  for  the  instruc- 
tion of  children. 

When  I  say  that  we  are  too  young  to  sympathize  with  the  religious 
feelings  of  the  old,  let  me  not  be  misunderstood.  Far  be  it  from  me  to 
gay  that  we  are  too  young  to  feel  interested  in  the  preaching  of  the 
gospel ;  or  even  too  young  to  unite  ourselves  to  a  Christian  Church, 
and  to  unite  in  the  most  sublime  and  delightful  exercises  of  the 
Christian  sanctuary.  If  there  be  any  age  more  suited  than  another 
for  receiving  impressions  of  an  unseen  world,  and  boldly  declaring 
ourselves  on  the  Lord's  side,  it  is  surely  that  age  when  the  affections 
are  warm,  the  conscience  not  yet  seared,  nor  the  heart  hardened  by 
the  deceitfulness  of  sin.  What  I  mean  to  say,  is,  that  many  of  us 
are  not  yet  old  enough,  or  may  not  think  ourselves  old  enough  to 
talk  familiarly  of  religion  with  our  parents  and  their  associates,  to 
enter  into  their  views,  and  to  sympathize  with  their  feelings.  Their 
trials,  their  temptations,  their  besetting  sins,  and  even  their  plea- 
sures and  their  hopes  in  this  life,  are  all  different  from  ours.  There 
is  a  reverence  about  age  that  forbids  too  great  familiarity :  we  feel  more 
at  ease  when  talking  to  those  of  our  own  age ;  and  especially  on  the 
subject  of  religion,  we  feel  a  reserve  when  conversing  with  those  who 
are  much  older  than  ourselves.  From  the  conversation  of  the  young 
again,  this  most  important  subject  is  often  banished  by  mutual  con- 
sent, as  something  gloomy;  or  at  least  too  serious  for  youth,  and 
that  may  with  great  safety  be  put  off  to  an  age  of  greater  gravity 
and  seriousness.  It  thus  appears  that  in  all  that  period  of  our  life, 
when  we  have  thrown  off  the  habits  of  childhood,  and  have  begun 
to  think  for  ourselves,  the  important  interests  of  eternity  are  too 
apt  to  be  forgotten,  and  this  important  age  seems  to  me  not  to  be 
provided  as  it  might  be,  with  religious  instruction  peculiarly  adapted 
to  it.  It  is  a  period  when  the  Christian  parent  or  the  guardian 
thinks  he  has  done  all  he  can.  He  has  sown  the  good  seed  of  in- 
struction in  the  heart,  and  watered  it,  it  may  be  with  tears  and 
earnest  prayers  j  and  he  thinks  that  he  may  now  rest  from  his  la- 


ADDRESS   ON   RELIGIOUS   INSTRUCTION.     403 

bours,  that  he  may  now  abate  his  watchfulness.  And  how  frequently 
does  it  happen,  that  while  he  thus  slumbers,  the  enemy  comes  and 
sows  tares  among  the  wheat,  and  the  instructor  looks  in  vain  in  the 
character  of  the  man,  for  the  fruits  of  those  admonitions  which  he 
had  so  carefully  instilled  into  the  mind  of  the  boy.  It  is  the  design 
of  this  meeting,  my  friends,  to  keep  you  in  mind  of  early  instruction, 
if  you  have  enjoyed  it,  or  to  lead  your  attention  to  it  now,  if  you 
have  not  had  the  privilege  of  a  religious  education. 

The  period  of  youth  is,  in  many  respects,  the  most  important 
period  of  our  life.  It  is  the  period  when  we  are  exposed  to  most 
danger,  and  it  is  the  period  when  the  character  is  generally  formed. 
The  opinions  then  received,  are  generally  most  pertinaciously  ad- 
hered to  through  the  rest  of  life. 

It  is  not  when  the  seed  lies  covered  in  the  bosom  of  the  soil  that 
there  is  the  most  danger  from  an  unpropitious  season  ;  though  even 
then  the  parching  heat  m^y  prevent  its  springing,  or  the  too  copious 
rain  may  sour  it  in  its  bed ;  neither  is  it  when  the  plant  has  at- 
tained its  full  maturity,  and  has  been  hardened  by  its  exposure  to 
many  a  storm  ;  but  that  is  the  period  of  the  greatest  danger,  when 
the  tender  germ  has  just  left  the  kindly  protection  of  the  earth,  and 
is  first  exposed  to  the  rude  blast  and  the  piercing  cold. 

And  so  it  is  with  man,  who  has  often  been  compared  to  the  flower 
of  the  field.  It  is  not  when  he  enjoys  the  protection  of  a  father's 
roof,  and  the  advantage  of  parental  instruction,  though  even  then,  a 
bad  system  of  education  may  ruin  his  after-character.  Neither  is  it 
after  he  has  been  long  exposed  to  the  temptations  of  the  world.  The 
character  has  in  general,  by  that  time,  been  formed,  either  in  ac- 
cordance with  the  practice  of  the  world,  or  in  opposition  to  these 
practices.  The  danger  is  then  past,  though  it  may  not  have  been 
avoided.  It  is  when  the  youth  first  goes  out  into  the  world  that  the 
danger  is  at  its  greatest :  it  is  then  that  every  impulse,  especially  if 
it  be  sinful,  and  therefore  congenial  to  the  mind,  is  apt  to  give  a  di- 
rection to  the  future  character;  and,  consequently,  that  every 
temptation  is  too  apt  to  bring  destruction  along  with  it. 

Some  of  you  may  have  received  a  religious  education,  and  may  be 
■well  acquainted  with  the  doctrines  of  the  gospel.  But  do  not  pre- 
sume that,  on  this  account,  you  are  quite  impregnable  to  the  assaults 


404  APPENDIX. 

of  temptation,  and  may  safely  pass  without  a  struggle,  the  most 
critical  period  of  life. 

In  some  respects,  the  very  fact  of  having  enjoyed  a  religious  edu- 
cation, makes  that  time  more  critically  dangerous,  when  you  begin 
to  enjoy  it  no  longer.  The  plant  that  has  been  reared  in  a  hot-house, 
and  is  guarded  from  all  that  could  injure  its  infant  growth,  suffers 
more,  when  exposed  to  the  inclemencies  of  the  open  sky,  than  that 
which  has  not  been  so  carefully  nurtured. 

To  one  whose  childhood  has  been  protected  by  pious  parents,  sin 
is  still  by  nature  as  agreeable  as  it  is  to  others,  and  to  him  it  has  the 
additional  charm  of  novelty.  To  another,  the  wickedness  of  the 
w^orld  has  been  gradually  made  known,  as  his  mind  gradually  ex- 
pands ;  but  from  such  an  individual,  it  is  kept  for  a  time  almost  se- 
cret, till  at  length  it  bursts  all  at  once  upon  him.  While  under  pious 
parents,  the  current  of  temptation  has  been  kept  from  rushing  upon 
him,  but  it  has  still  been  flowing  on.  It  has  not  been  diverted  from 
its  course,  it  has  only  been  dammed  up.  The  barrier  that  has  been 
raised  against  it,  cannot,  however,  stand  for  ever;  it  must,  some 
time  or  other,  give  way ;  and  the  longer  we  have  enjoyed  its  protec- 
tion, the  greater  will  be  the  torrent  that  shall  burst  upon  us,  when 
it  is  broken  down.  And  if,  m^  friends,  it  require  an  aid  that  is  more 
than  human,  to  enable  us  to  stand  against  the  natural  stream,  to 
preserve  us  against  single,  but  successive  temptations ;  surely  when 
the  enemy  rushes  in  like  a  flood,  it  is  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord  alone 
that  can  raise  up  a  standard  against  him. 

Such  are  some  of  the  dangers  to  which  we  are  exposed  from  the 
"world  around  us.  There  are  others,  which  arise  from  the  state  of 
our  own  minds.  We  have  begun  to  think  for  ourselves,  and  have 
thrown  off  that  servile  deference  to  authority  which  influences  the 
minds  of  children.  Formerly,  for  our  parents  to  tell  us  anything 
■was  sufficient  evidence  for  our  believing  it.  We  thought  they  could 
not  be  wrong ;  but  we  now  perceive  that  we  have  a  principle  of  rea- 
son within  ourselves,  by  whose  aid,  we  feel  that  we  ought  to  inquire 
into  the  truth  of  all  our  opinions. 

Among  others,  our  religious  opinions  come  to  be  re-tried,  and 
there  are  many  things  that  may  lead  us,  on  this  most  important  sub- 
ject, to  false  conclusions. 

Our  parents  had  told  us  of  the  purity  and  perfection  of  Chri&ti- 


ADDRESS   ON   RELIGIOUS   INSTRUCTION.   405 

anity,  and  we  fondly  thought  that  they  were  living  examples  of  that 
perfection  which  they  taught  us  to  aim  at.  But  we  have  begun  to 
discover  that  they  are  not  the  perfect  creatures  we  took  them  to  be. 
We  thought  them  angels,  and  we  find  they  are  but  men.  We  thought 
them  infallible,  and  we  find  they  have  their  errors  and  their  weak- 
nesses, and  their  sins,  as  well  as  ourselves.  The  character  of  a  wit- 
ness materially  affects  his  testimony ;  and,  as  we  have  in  general  no 
ground  for  the  religious  opinions  of  childhood,  but  the  testimony  of 
parents,  our  altered  views  of  their  character  are  apt  to  occasion  an 
alteration  in  our  views,  of  the  unchanging  truths  which  they  have 
taught  us.  We  so  associate  together  their  characters,  and  the  doc- 
trines which  they  delivered  to  us,  that  when  we  begin  to  think  of 
the  former  as  weak  and  imperfect,  we  are  too  apt  to  conclude,  that 
the  latter  are  weak  and  imperfect  also. 

If,  when  we  are  thus  beginning  to  mistrust  our  early  opinions,  we 
should  hear  of  some  who  have  bid  fair  in  the  Christian  course,  falling 
away,  it  will  add  strength  to  our  suspicion,  that  the  doctrines  of  the 
Bible  may  not  be  all  that  we  thought  them,  and  the  natural  aversion 
which  we  have  to  the  truths  under  review,  will  prevent  us  from  per- 
ceiving the  fallacy  of  the  reasoning  by  which  we  have  arrived  at  this 
conclusion.  When  we  have  got  thus  far  on  the  way  to  infidelity,  the 
very  circumstance  of  our  having  received  these  opinions  in  child- 
hood, will  seem  another  reason  for  despising  them.  We  shall  asso- 
ciate them  with  the  other  fables  which  we  then  listened  to  with  plea- 
sure, and  received  with  confidence ;  and  we  shall  think  that  we  be- 
lieved the  one,  for  the  same  reason  that  we  gave  credit  to  the  other; 
because  of  our  inability  to  discover  the  gross  deceits  that  had  been 
palmed  upon  us  by  those  who  had  full  possession  of  our  confidence. 
By  a  process  of  thinking,  somewhat  similar  to  this,  we  may  come  at 
last  to  think  of  the  devil  and  of  hell,  as  we  now  do  of  the  stories  of 
ghosts  and  witches,  which  once  excited  our  alarm ;  and  even  to  as- 
sociate the  inspired  descriptions  of  heavenly  glory,  with  gorgeous 
fables  of  streets  of  gold,  and  palaces  of  emerald,  which  we  have 
read  of  in  the  volumes  of  eastern  fiction. 

Nor  is  this  all  the  imaginary  picture.  God  forbid  that  it  should 
be  the  fate  of  any  of  us.  But,  my  friends,  it  is  too  true  a  sketch  of 
the  feelings  of  not  a  few  who  have  been  brought  up  to  acknowledge 
the  gospel,  but  whose  repeated  violations  of  the  law  of  God,  have 


406  APPENDIX. 

driven  them  to  the  fearful  expedient  of  pacifying  conscience,  by  the 
rejection  of  that  book  which  the  Almighty  has  been  pleased  to  send 
us,  as  a  revelation  of  his  vrill ;  and  sometimes,  by  the  denial  of  the 
existence  of  the  Eternal  himself. 

You  see  then,  my  friends,  that  at  our  time  of  life,  we  are  exposed, 
from  a  variety  of  causes,  to  great  danger ;  and  even  if  we  have  re- 
ceived a  religious  education,  it  alone  will  not  guard  us  from  the  evil 
that  is  in  the  world.  The  great  question  with  each  of  us  should  be, 
"  How  shall  a  young  man  cleanse  his  way  V  The  same  inspired 
writer  who  proposes  the  question,  gives  us  also  its  answer;  "By 
taking  heed  thereto  according  to  the  word.-"  If  we  would  take  heed 
to  our  ways  according  to  the  word  of  God,  we  must  know  w^hat  that 
word  is ;  and  in  order  to  this,  we  must  not  onl}'-  read,  but  search  the 
Scriptures.  The  study  of  the  Sacred  Scriptures  then,  will  form  the 
chief  part  of  the  business  of  our  meetings.  As  to  what  plan  we 
ought  to  adopt  in  attempting  this,  I  acknowledge  to  you  I  feel  con- 
siderable difficulty.  The  persons  whose  attention  I  wish  chiefly  to 
engage,  are  not  children,  or  I  should  at  once  decide  upon  prescribing 
a  passage  to  be  committed  to  memory,  and  examining  them  on  what 
had  been  thus  prepared,  with  a  view  to  interest  the  scholar  in  its 
meaning.  But  you  are  not  children,  and  I  wish  to  treat  you  as  men. 
If  any  of  yourselves  have  any  plan  to  propose,  I  shall  be  glad  to 
listen  to  it,  and  consider  its  merits. 

In  the  mean  time  I  shall  humbly  propose  the  plan  which  seems  to 
me  most  eligible.  I  shall  propose  a  certain  subject,  and  ask  such 
of  you  as  choose  to  search  the  Scriptures,  for  passages  connected 
with  it.  These  you  will  mark,  and  be  prepared  to  read.  If  any 
difficulty  occurs  to  any  of  you  in  the  passages  you  meet  with,  I  shall 
be  glad  to  explain  it  if  I  can  ;  or,  if  not,  to  take  it  into  considera- 
tion. Remarks  on  the  different  verses  may  occur  to  me  as  you  read, 
which  I  shall  make  in  as  plain  and  familiar  a  manner  as  possible. 
I  shall  study  at  home  the  same  subject  which  you  are  considering, 
and  shall  choose  some  passage  connected  with  it,  from  which,  after 
we  have  gone  over  your  passages,  I  propose  to  deliver  a  veri/  short 
address. 

Let  me  remind  you,  however,  that  all  we  can  do  to  obtain  a  cor- 
rect kno\Adedge  of  the  Scriptures,  and  to  attend  to  our  way  accord- 
ing to  the  dictates  of  inspired  wisdom,  will  prove  utterly  vain,  un- 


ADDRESS    ON   EELIGIOUS   INSTEUCTION.   407 

less  we  are  assisted  with  power  from  on  high  —  unless  we  are  en- 
lightened by  that  Spirit,  whose  office  it  is  to  take  of  the  things  of 
Christ,  and  show  them  unto  men.  The  most  far-sighted,  and  acute 
discerner  of  earthly  things,  is  a  blind  man  with  regard  to  divine 
things.  Let  me  entreat  you  then,  seriously  and  fervently  to  offer 
np  the  petition  we  have  read  this  evening:  "  Open  thou  mine  eyes  I" 
One  word  before  I  conclude,  about  the  spirit  we  ought  to  manifest 
at  these  meetings.  Let  it  be  a  spirit  of  deep  humility.  To  know 
our  own  ignorance,  and  to  be  willing  to  learn  from  every  one,  are 
the  first  steps  toward  the  acquisition  of  wisdom,  whether  earthly  or 
heavenly.  There  is  none  of  us  so  wise,  but  he  may  learn  something 
from  the  rest;  and  none  so  ignorant  but  we  may  all  learn  something 
from  him.  And  from  this  let  me  just  remark,  that  if  any  of  your 
friends,  more  advanced  in  life,  shall  condescend  to  honour  us  with 
their  presence,  and  to  listen  to  our  exercises,  they  shall  always  re- 
ceive a  hearty  welcome.  If  they  know  the  truth,  as  it  is  in  Jesus, 
they  will  rejoice  to  see  their  children  seeking  the  way  to  Zion  ;  and 
if  they  know  it  not,  they  may  receive  knowledge  even  at  this  little 
meeting,  for  which  they  may  bless  God  through  the  ages  of  eternity. 
May  I  allude,  before  concluding,  to  the  distressing  state  of  our 
native  land  from  the  stagnation  of  trade  ?  "  Shall  there  be  evil  in 
the  city,  and  the  Lord  hath  not  done  it?^'  We  may  depend  upon  it, 
that  God  does  not  afflict  our  country  for  nought.  We  may  not  be 
able  to  determine  the  cause  for  which  these  calamities  have  been 
sent,  but  that  there  is  a  cause,  we  may  rest  assured.  And  what,  I 
ask,  is  more  likely  to  bring  the  scourge  of  divine  vengeance  upon  a 
nation,  than  its  own  iniquities?  It  were  well  if  men  would  listen 
to  the  voice  of  Providence,  which  now  speaks  so  loudly  in  every  part 
of  our  land  ;  and  that,  when  the  judgments  of.  the  Lord  are  abroad 
on  the  earth,  men  would  learn  righteousness. 

The  following  is  one  of  his  short  addresses  to  his  class  of  young 
men,  after  it  was  formed  :  — 


408  APPENDIX, 


AN  ADDRESS  TO  HIS   CLASS. 

"  TTnppy  is  the  man  that  findeth  wisdom,  and  the  man  that  getteth  under- 
standing,'' &c.  —  Prov.  iii.  13  -  19. 

It  would  be  a  very  reasonable  question  for  any  of  you  to  put  to 
me  to-night,  "  What  has  been  your  object  in  calling  us  together?" 
And  I  think  I  should  speak  the  sincere  language  of  my  heart,  in 
answering,  "  My  object  simply  is  to  try  to  make  you  happy."  Could 
I  succeed  in  convincing  you,  that  this  is  really  my  design,  and  that 
I  have  rational  expectations  of  accomplishing  it ;  I  know  that  I 
should  secure  the  willing  attendance,  and  the  earnest  attention  of 
all  whose  circumstances  do  not  absolutely  forbid  them.  Every  one 
•wishes  to  be  happy.  However  different  may  be  the  pursuits  in 
which  men  engage,  and  however  diversified  the  objects  on  which 
they  set  their  affections,  this  is  the  great  sum  of  their  desires,  and 
this  the  point  to  which  all  their  efforts  tend.  Every  one  of  you  feels 
the  truth  of  this  statement.  You  are  all  seeking  after  happiness ; 
and  yet,  were  I  to  question  each  one  of  you  on  this  subject,  I  dare 
say  I  should  receive  the  same  answer  from  all,  that  this  great  object 
of  your  wishes  has  not  yet  been  obtained.  There  is  still  another 
point  in  which  I  may  venture  to  say,  you  all  agree.  And  this  is, 
*'  that  though  you  have  not  yet  found  this  object  of  your  wishes,  you 
have  the  expectation,  that  at  some  future  period  it  will  be  obtained." 
The  most  miserable  has  this  expectation.  Take  it  away,  and  you 
leave  a  man  in  despair. 

You  feel  then,  that  at  present,  you  are  not  quite  happy.  Many 
of  you  may  feel  yourselves  to  be  very  miserable.  You  earnestly 
desire  to  be  happy ;'  and  you  have  some  vague  hope,  that  at  some 
time  or  other,  you  will  be  so. 

This  is  a  subject  then,  which  is  interesting  to  all  of  you.  It  is 
interesting  to  those  who  are  most  careless  and  indifferent  about 
everything  else.  And  yet,  though  a  subject  of  such  universal  inter- 
est, there  is  perhaps  no  subject  on  which  men  have  differed  so 
widely.  Why  have  we  so  many  different  characters  in  the  world  ? 
It  is  just  because  men  have  such  different  notions  of  what  will  make 
them  happy. 

One  man  thinks,  if  he  were  rich,  he  would  be  happy,  and  he  gives 


ADDRESS    TO    HIS    CLASS.  409 

all  his  diligence  to  accomplish  this  object.  Ho  becomes  rich,  and  in 
all  probability,  is  more  wretched  than  before.  This  is  such  a  com- 
mon idea,  that  we  may  be  required  to  dwell  on  it  a  little  longer. 
Especially  in  times  like  the  present,  it  is  most  natural  for  him  who 
labours  hard  for  the  pittance  that  barely  furnishes  the  necessaries 
of  life,  to  think  that  ease  and  plenty  are  all  that  is  necessary  to  con- 
stitute true  happiness.  But  you  have  only  to  come  in  contact  with 
the  rich,  to  know  how  different  is  the  fact.  I  have  said,  that  I  wish 
to  make  you  happy,  and  that  I  have  rational  expectations  of  accom- 
plishing it.  Some,  I  doubt  not,  would  think  it  a  good  proof  of  the 
sincerity  of  my  assertions,  were  I  able  and  willing  to  lavish  among 
you  the  good  things  of  this  life.  This  you  know  to  be  impossible  ; 
but,  wei-e  my  ability  and  my  benevolence  as  unbounded  as  this  sup- 
position would  require,  I  should  feel  that  I  had  miserably  failed  to 
fulfil  the  expectations  which  I  might  have  excited.  No  ;  wealth  does 
not  constitute  happiness.  Eiches  cannot  give  peace  of  mind  ;  and, 
without  this,  what  avails  all  bodily  ease  and  luxury. 

Some  again,  have  affected  to  despise  wealth,  and  have  sought  for 
encouragement  in  what  have  been  deemed  more  dignified  pursuits. 
But  all  have  proved  alike  unsatisfactory.  There  is  a  want,  a  long- 
ing for  something  more,  when  the  world  has  given  all  that  it  can. 
There  is  one  who  had  tried  all  the  means  of  happiness  this  world 
can  afford,  who  gives  it  as  the  testimony  of  his  experience,  that  "  all 
is  vanity  and  vexation  of  spirit."  And  I  believe,  in  the  moments 
of  sober  thought,  this  is  the  feeling  of  every  individual  in  looking 
back  upon  the  past.  All  has  been  unsatisfying.  Expectations  of 
happiness  have  been  cruelly  disappointed  ;  and,  if  there  have  been  a 
few  hours  of  pleasure,  they  have  been  but  few,  and  have  often  left 
the  sting  of  remorse,  or  the  bitterness  of  grief  behind  them.  There 
may  have  been  gleams  of  enjoyment  which  appeared  but  to  vanish : 
but  anything  like  lasting  and  satisfying  happiness  has  not  been  ex- 
perienced. And  yet,  with  all  that  is  unsatisfactory  in  the  experience 
of  the  past,  there  is  a  strange  delusion  that  still  hangs  over  the 
future.  In  spite  of  experience,  men  will  still  hope  to  find  that  hap- 
piness which  has  hitherto  deceived  their  expectations.  We  will  not 
believe  that  earth  cannot  give  it.  The  child  looks  forward  to  the 
frolics  of  boyhood,  and  the  boy  to  the  freedom  and  the  pleasures  of 
youth.     The  youth  enters  on  speculations  of  gain  or  ambition,  and 

35 


410  APPENDIX. 

the  accompllsLment  of  these  will  perfect  his  happiness.  Manhood 
has  not  brought  the  longed-for  satisfaction,  hut  it  has  not  ceased  to 
expect  it.  Still  we  will  look  to  the  future  for  happiness,  till  we  have 
no  future  to  look  to.  And  often,  the  nearer  the  end  approaches,  the 
stronger  is  the  delusion.  And  it  is  thus  that  many  of  us  slumber 
on  from  childhood  to  grey  hairs,  still  dreaming  of  an  imaginary  bliss, 
which,  in  spite  of  all  experience,  we  will  not  believe  to  be  imaginary  ; 
ever  deceived,  and  yet  ever  willing  to  be  deceived  again.  And  it  is 
thus,  alas,  that  too  many  slumber  on,  pleased  with  the  deceitful 
vision,  till  the  voice  of  death  awakes  them  to  the  dread  reality. 

And  is  there,  then,  no  such  thing  as  happiness !  Or,  if  there  be, 
how  are  we  to  find  it  ?  If  riches  and  honours,  and  fame,  and  learn- 
ing and  pleasure,  have  deceived  the  expectations  of  those  who 
trusted  to  them  for  happiness,  must  we  give  up  the  search  ?  There 
is  such  a  thing  as  true  enjoyment,  and  there  is  a  way  of  finding  it, 
which  is  patent  to  us  all.  The  meanest,  yea,  the  vilest  have  found 
it  before  us,  and  we  need  not  despair.  God  has  been  pleased  to 
*'  show  us  the  path  of  life  ;"  and  if  many  have  sunk  to  the  grave 
without  attaining  the  object  of  their  wishes,  it  is  because  they  would 
listen  to  the  dictates  of  their  own  depraved  propensities,  rather  than 
to  the  voice  of  their  Creator.  0  let  us  not  imitate  so  sad  an  exam- 
ple !  Let  us  turn  to  the  Bible,  and  be  directed  by  it  in  this  the  most 
interesting  of  all  inquiries. 

He,  to  whom  I  have  before  alluded,  as  having  tried  all  earthly 
things,  and  pronounced  them  "vanity;"  while  writing  under  the 
influence  of  the  Divine  Spirit,  has  the  following  words :  "  Happy 
is  the  man  that  findeth  wisdom,"  &c.  Prov.  iii.  13  -  19.  This  points 
directly  to  the  subject  of  our  inquiries.  It  is  ours,  then,  humbly  to 
investigate  what  may  be  the  meaning  of  the  words,  and  to  receive 
it  as  an  intimation  from  Him  who  knoweth  all  things,  who  cannot 
be  deceived,  and  who  cannot  lie. 

It  is  evident,  then,  that  the  sense  of  the  passage  depends  mainly 
upon  the  meaning  we  give  to  the  words,  "  wisdom"  and  ^^understand- 
ing," [T^y\'2'r\^  nDDH-)  I^  these  are  to  be  understood  in  the 
sense  in  which  they  generally  pass  current  among  us,  the  passage  will 
seem  at  variance  with  the  general  remarks  we  have  made  about  the 
unsatisfactory  nature  of  all  earthly  things.  It  is  true,  the  pursuits 
of  learning  and  science  are  productive  of  a  higher  and  a  purer  plea- 


ADDRESS    TO    HIS    CLASS.  4ll 

sure,  than  the  gross  and  degrading  gratification  of  avarice  or  sensu- 
ality. But  still  there  are  many  called  wise,  whose  wisdom  has 
failed  to  make  them  happy.  This,  therefore,  cannot  be  the  meaning 
of  the  words.  The  Bible  is  never  at  variance  with  facts.  Accord- 
ingly, we  find  the  very  author  of  our  text  bearing  witness  to  the  unsat- 
isfactory nature  of  mere  earthly  wisdom.  (Ecclcs.  i.  16,  to  the  end.) 
If  ever  the  wisdom  of  any  man  could  afford  happiness,  the  wisdom 
of  the  wisest  must  have  done  so.  But  you  have  heard  him  rank  it 
with  the  other  unsatisfactory  vanities  of  earth.  We  are  told  of  the 
uncertainty  of  riches  ;  and,  therefore  we  are  exhorted  "  not  to  labour 
to  be  rich.''  It  is  added  in  the  same  verse  "  Cease  from  thine  own 
wisdom."     Prov.  xxiii.  4. 

What  then  is  the  meaning  of  those  interesting  words,  which  form 
the  chief  ingredients  of  that  happiness,  after  which  all  are  seeking? 
They  are  not  used  in  their  ordinary  sense:  for,  in  that  case,  the 
passage  would  not  be  true,  and  would  stand  at  variance  with  other 
parts  of  Scripture.  It  is  always  the  safest  way  of  interpreting  Scrip- 
ture language,  and  especially  those  phrases  which  are  peculiar  to 
Scripture,  when  we  can  make  the  divine  word  its  own  interpreter. 
If  you  turn  to  the  twenty-eighth  verse  of  the  twenty-eighth  chapter 
of  Job,  you  will  have  a  beautiful  illustration  of  what  I  mean. 
There  the  very  same  words  occur,  which  are  found  in  our  text,  ac- 
companied with  a  full  and  explicit  explanation,  "  Behold  the  fear  of 
the  Lord,  that  is  wisdom  ;  and  to  depart  from  evil,  is  understanding.*' 
"  The  fear  of  the  Lord,''  you  know,  is  a  common  expression  in  Scrip- 
ture for  true  religion.  It  indicates  a  feeling  of  the  profoundest  re- 
verence, mingled  with  adoring  love,  which  is  the  right  state  of  mind 
in  which  a  creature  should  regard  his  Creator.  To  be  truly  happy, 
then,  we  must  be  truly  religious.  The  understanding  that  is  men- 
tioned, is  a  departure  from  evil.  This  too,  is  an  ingredient  of  happi- 
ness, and  is  the  consequent  of  the  former.  True  happiness  is  insep- 
arably connected  with  holiness. 

You  will  say.  This  is  no  new  discovery.  We  have  been  often  told 
so.  Aye,  but  have  you  felt  it  to  be  a  truth  ;  and  have  you  acted 
upon  it  as  a  truth  ?  If  so,  whatever  be  your  sorrows,  you  can  tell 
that  you  have  a  joy  which  the  world  cannot  give,  and  which  it  can- 
not take  away.     If  you  have  not  this  joy,  you  have  not  yet  laid  hold 


412  APPENDIX. 

on  this  true  wisdom.     Seek  for  her,  for  happy  is  the  man  that  find- 
eth  her. 

It  appears  then,  that  sin  is  the  cause  of  all  the  misery  that  is  in 
the  world.  There  is  a  sense  of  guilt  and  a  dread  of  punishment, 
which  the  most  careless  sometimes  feel,  and  which  must  soon  burst 
with  overwhelming  force  upon  them  in  that  place  where  conscience 
will  be  ever  awake.  How  blessed  then  is  he  "  whose  transgression  ia 
forgiven,  whose  sin  is  covered,"  &c.  (Psalm  xxxii.)  This  conscious- 
ness of  guilt  must  form  a  great  part  of  the  unhappiness  of  every 
one,  whose  conscience  is  not  seared  as  with  a  hot  iron.  In  the 
gospel  then  there  is  a  remedy  for  this.  The  blessedness  mentioned 
in  the  Psalm  may  be  ours,  if  we  believe  that  Christ  died  for  our 
sins.  But  the  misery  arising  from  a  sense  of  guilt,  is  not  the  only 
misery  connected  with  sin  ;  nor  is  it  this  which  constitutes  the  main 
part  of  the  unhappiness  of  mankind.  An  awakened  conscience  has 
driven  many  to  despair,  and  the  thinking  part  of  mankind  are  often 
oppressed  by  the  unwelcome  intrusions  of  its  warning  voice.  But 
the  gay,  unthinking  multitude,  who  never  reflect,  and  who  never 
think  of  futurity, — are  they  oppressed  with  a  sense  of  guilt?  They 
often  are.  And  yet  is  it  true,  that  many  dance  along  from  the  cradle 
to  the  grave  in  whom  the  past  has  excited  no  remorse,  and  the  future 
no  anxiety.  And  yet  these  were  not  liapjjy.  They  roved  from 
pleasure  to  pleasure,  seeking  what  they  could  not  obtain.  Their 
very  love  of  novelty,  showed  that  the  last  amusement  could  amuse 
no  longer.  They  have  sunk  to  the  grave,  and  they  are  miserable 
now.  There  is  a  misery  then  connected  with  sin,  independent  of  a 
sense  of  guilt,  or  rather,  I  should  say.  Sin  itself  is  misery.  It  is  sin 
which  has  stamped  vanity  on  all  the  means  of  happiness  which  the 
world  presents.  It  is  sin  which  has  mingled  bitterness  with  every 
earthly  pleasure.  In  this  view  of  the  matter,  every  sinner  must  he 
uuhappy,  and  that  independent  of  the  torments  of  conscience,  or  the 
foreboding  of  torments  greater  still.  Misery  must  be  mingled  up 
with  his  very  existence,  and  every  enjoyment  must  be  embittered  by 
the  principle  of  unhappiness  which  is  in  his  own  breast.  One  of 
the  scripture  names  of  the  devil,  means  the  self  tormentor ;  and  the 
appellation  is  applicable,  in  a  certain  degree,  to  every  worker  of  ini- 
quity. This  is  evidently  the  deadliest  wound  sin  has  given,  but  tho 
reliitiion  of  the  Bible  has  a  cure  for  this  too. 


FICTION  AS   A   MEDIUM   OF  INSTEUCTION.   413 

In  the  gospel  we  are  offered  pardon,  and  this  can  disarm  conscience 
and  take  the  sting  from  death.  But  this  is  not  all.  We' must  be 
purified,  as  well  as  pardoned,  ere  our  salvation  be  complete.  The 
natural  consequence  of  sin,  is  punishment  proportioned  to  the  en- 
ormity of  the  crime;  a  full  pardon  frees  us  from  all  the  overwhelm- 
ing consequences  of  our  guilt.  But  sin  itself  is  a  punishment ;  and, 
so  long  as  we  are  sinners,  no  pardon,  however  full  or  free,  can  save 
us  from  this  punishment.  While  we  remain  depraved  and  unholy, 
we  must  be  unhappy.  A  change  of  character  then  is  the  only  hope 
of  deliverance.  And  for  this,  most  ample  means  are  provided  in  tho 
gospel  of  Christ.  The  very  history  of  that  atonement  which  pro- 
cured our  pardon,  has  a  tendency  while  we  meditate  upon  it,  to  pro- 
mote our  holiness.  While  we  look  to  Christ,  we  are  made  like  him. 
While  we  behold  that  glory  with  unveiled  faces,  we  are  changed  into 
the  same  image  from  glory  to  glory.  It  is  by  believing  in  Christ 
then,  and  thinking  much  of  his  person  and  his  history,  that  we  shall 
find  that  wisdom,  and  get  that  understanding,  which  shall  make  us 
truly  happy.  For  thus  shall  we  fear  the  Lord,  in  the  sense  of  that 
term ;  and  thus  too  shall  we  be  led  to  depart  from  evil. 


M. 

ON  FICTION,  AS  A  MEDIUM  OF  RELIGIOUS  INSTRUCTION. 

Every  age  has  its  prevailing  taste.  And  if  we  may  judge  of  the 
mental  appetite  as  we  do  of  that  of  the  body,  from  the  food  that  is 
most  relished  by  it,  we  should  say,  at  present,  novelty  is  the  rage 
of  the  day.  Whether  we  examine  the  tables  of  our  drawing-rooms, 
or  the  shelves  of  our  humblest  circulating  libraries,  we  find  the 
greater  proportion  of  the  books,  and  perhaps  nearly  all  those  that 
bear  the  marks  of  frequent  perusal,  to  be  works  of  fiction.  Nor  is 
this  to  be  wondered  at.  We  have  arrived  almost  at  that  state  of  in- 
tellectual luxury  which  characterized  the  Athenians  when  Paul 
visited  their  famous  city.  And  it  is  just  what  might  be  expected, 
if  the  description  given  of  them  be  applicable  to  our  own  countrj- 

35* 


414  APPENDIX. 

men  in  the  present  day.  But  we  confess  it  does  surprise,  and  in 
some  degree  alarm  us,  to  find  that  this  love  of  coloured  fiction,  in 
preference  to  sober  fact,  has  infected  the  Christian  part  of  our  com- 
munity too,  and  has  exerted  so  wide  an  influence  on  the  character 
of  our  religious  publications. 

We  know  that  religious  tales  have  been  written  by  persons  of 
eminent  piety,  and  with  the  best  of  motives.  We  have  even  heard 
that  real  spiritual  benefit  has  been  obtained  by  the  perusal  of  them. 
But  allowing  all  this  to  be  true,  there  is  still  room  for  the  question, 
what  is  the  tendency  of  such  productions  ? 

There  is  a  general  objection  to  common  novels,  that  they  give  false 
views  of  the  world ;  and  the  same  thing  may  be  said  of  all  works  of 
fiction.  The  sketches  of  Christian  character  contained  in  these  reli- 
gious tales,  have  no  counterpart  among  living  Christians. 

It  seems,  indeed,  essential  to  the  nature  of  fiction,  that  everythino* 
should  be  overdone.  Truth  stamps  a  worth  upon  other  productions, 
which  must  be  made  up  here  by  something  else.  The  volumes  of 
Hume  or  Eobertson  are  held  in  estimation  as  histories;  but  they 
would  make  but  a  sorry  figure  as  novels. 

Now,  if  this  be  true,  here  is  the  very  serious  evil  in  the  works  we 
are  considering.  Truth  is  wanting,  and  the  judgment  cannot  be 
interested.  To  make  up  for  this,  the  fancy  must  be  entertained  ;  and 
this  is  generally  effected  by  over-wrought  descriptions,  and  unlikely 
coincidences.  What  must  be  the  eJBfect  of  this  on  the  mind  of  an 
unbeliever?  He  reads  the  lovely  description,  and  he  admires  the 
picture.  He  turns  to  the  world  of  reality  around  him,  and  sees 
nothing  like  it.  And  the  too  plausible  conclusion  is,  "  Well,  if  this 
be  Christianity,  these  people,  after  all,  are  not  what  they  pretend 
to  be.'' 

Equally  pernicious  must  be  the  influence  of  this  ideal  perfection 
of  Christian  character,  on  the  mind  of  a  young  disciple.  He  who 
has  formed  his  notions  of  Christian  society  from  the  New  Testament, 
will  be  prepared  for  the  trials  he  may  meet  with,  in  his  intercourse 
with  Christian  brethren,  and  in  his  fellowship  with  a  Christian 
Church.  He  will  lament  that  good  men  should  difi"er  in  some  of 
their  opinions ;  and  that  sometimes  there  should  spring  from  this, 
debates  and  strifes  that  are  most  unseemly.  But  he  will  not  be 
stumbled  by  it:  for  he  has  read  of  a  "  contention  so  sharp"  between 


FICTION  AS   A   MEDIUM   OF   INSTRUCTION.   415 

two  most  eminent  evangelists,  that  it  caused  their  separation.  He 
will  be  o-rieved  that  the  love  of  many  should  wax  cold  ;  but  he  will 
be  prepared  to  expect  it.  It  will  distress  him  much,  if  the  faith  of 
some  be  overthrown,  who  seemed  to  be  the  people  of  God.  Still  he 
will  not  be  stumbled.  He  knows  that  there  were  similar  declensions 
even  among  the  first  disciples,  who  professed  the  name  of  Jesus,  at 
the  peril  of  their  lives.  And  in  the  midst  of  all  these  discouragments 
he  will  be  sustained  by  the  consideration,  "  Nevertheless,  the  founda- 
tion of  God  standeth  sure." 

Not  so  he  who  has  overlooked  the  salutary  lessons  of  these  in- 
structive facts,  and  has  gathered  his  ideas  of  the  religious  world 
from  the  pages  of  some  interesting  fiction.  When  he  comes  in  con- 
tact with  realities,  the  beautiful  vision  that  delighted  him  must 
vanish.  Disappointments  and  discouragements  will  come  thick 
upon  him.  His  zeal  must  be  damped,  and  his  ardour  quenched, 
and  in  all  human  probability  his  faith  will  be  shaken. 

It  is  a  still  stronger  objection  to  works  of  fiction,  that  they  place 
their  reader  in  an  ideal  world,  where  he  can  enjoy  the  luxury  of 
tender  or  sublime  emotions,  without  undergoing  the  toil  and  the 
self-denial,  which  are  inseparable  from  the  conduct  that  usually  pro- 
duces such  feelings.  He  forgets  his  own  character,  and  identifies 
himself  with  the  hero  of  the  story.  And  if  he  but  succeed  in  sup- 
posing the  generous  or  benevolent  deeds  of  this  character  to  be  his 
own  ;  he  succeeds  to  a  certain  degree  in  adnally  appropriating  to 
himself  the  feelings  which  spring  from  such  actions. 

It  is  a  strange  paradox  that  men  of  the  basest  and  most  grovelling 
characters  can  sympathize  with  such  feelings.  It  is  strange,  indeed, 
that  a  man  who  can  be  ravished  with  the  beauties  of  nature  should 
be  capable  of  turning  from  the  elevating  contemplation  of  the  work 
of  God  to  the  gratification  of  his  grossest  appetites.  And  yet  such 
characters  are  to  be  found.  The  lives  of  some  of  our  most  illustrious 
poets  furnish  us  with  too  conspicuous  examples.  The  readers  of 
fiction  present  us  with  a  similar  paradox  ;  and  the  explanation  in 
both  cases  is  the  same.  The  poet,  in  phrensy,  forgets  for  a  while 
the  real  world,  and  forgets  bis  own  real  character,  and  so  does  the 
reader  of  fiction,  though  in  a  less  degree.  The  only  difi"erence  is, 
that  the  novelist  does  for  his  reader  what  the  poet  does  for  himself. 
The  truth  is,  that  the  class  of  feelings  to  which  we  allude,  are  highly 


416  APPENDIX. 

productive  of  pleasure  ;  and  no  wonder  that  even  the  vicious  love  to 
indulge  in  them,  vrhen  they  can  do  so  at  a  cheaper  price  than  virtue. 
In  a  region  of  fancy  such  emotions  can  be  cheaply  purchased,  and 
hence  the  universal  charm  of  novels.  Even  the  miser  can  dissolve 
in  tenderness  over  a  tale  of  suffering,  v^'hen  he  knows  that  his  gold 
is  safe.  And  the  narrowest  spirit  can  dilate  with  generosity,  if  self- 
interest  be  not  at  stake.  And  finally,  the  most  degraded  profligate 
can  admire  and  sympathize  with  virtue,  if  his  vicious  passions  may 
still  be  gratified.  Let  any  one  who  wishes  for  an  exemplification  of 
these  remarks,  read  Rousseau's  Eulogium  on  the  character  of  Jesus 
Christ. 

These  general  remarks,  we  think,  are  quite  applicable  to  the  reli- 
gious novels  of  the  day.  We  have  not  alluded  to  the  pernicious 
principles  contained  in  common  novels:  our  observations  have  a  re- 
gard to  those  qualities  alone  that  are  common  to  all  works  of  fiction. 
Now  it  is  indeed  a  serious  evil,  if  by  the  process  we  have  described, 
those  delightful  emotions  which  attend  the  deeds  of  philanthropy, 
can  be  stolen  without  paying  their  fair  price  in  benevolent  actions. 
But  it  is  an  evil  more  serious  still,  if,  in  this  way,  we  can  work  our- 
selves into  a  state  of  sentimental  excitement,  and  mistake  this  for 
that  hallowed  ecstasy  which  the  faith  of  the  gospel  can  alone  afford. 
A  mistake  here  is  fatal,  and  we  cannot  help  thinking  that  the  class 
of  publications  we  refer  to  make  such  a  mistake  easy.  If  an  un- 
known author  may  be  allowed  to  refer  to  his  own  experience,  he  can 
well  remember  perusing  with  intense  delight,  the  fascinating  pages 
of  "  No  Fiction,"  and  giving  the  sympathy  of  his  tears  to  some  of 
its  affecting  passages,  when  his  whole  soul  was  in  direct  opposition 
to  the  gospel  of  Jesus  Christ. 

There  are.  many  who  look  upon  evangelical  Christianity  as  a  beau- 
tiful system,  and  who  can  delight  to  contemplate  it,  so  long  as  it  in- 
terferes not  with  them.  They  consider  an  eloquent  sermon  as  a  high 
intellectual  treat.  If  ever  they  are  offended  with  the  preacher,  or 
his  doctrine,  it  is  when  conscience  whispers  that  this  may  be  all  a 
reality,  and  may  have  an  influence  on  their  own  destinies.  The 
preacher  is  to  them  *'  as  a  very  lovely  song  of  one  that  hath  a  pleas- 
ant voice,  and  can  play  well  upon  an  instrument."  Give  such  per- 
sons religion  dressed  up  in  the  form  of  a  fiction,  and  it  is  just  the 
thing  they  want.     The  song  which  charmed  them  remained  in  all  its 


FICTION  AS   A   MEDIUM   OF   INSTKUCTION.   417 

loveliness  ;  and  the  truth  which  excited  their  alarm,  is  alarming  no 
longer,  when  so  closely  wrapped  with  what  is  known  to  be  fictitious. 

If  we  may  be  allowed  to  add  a  single  remark  to  a  discussion  al- 
ready too  lengthened,  we  would  observe,  that  the  style  of  the  in- 
spired writers  seems  to  pronounce  tacit  condemnation  on  these  high 
coloured  and  overstrained  productions.  They  have  surely  adopted 
the  best  method  of  conveying  instruction,  who  had  all  resources 
within  their  power,  and  almighty  wisdom  to  direct  their  choice. 
Their  method  is  a  recital  of  naked  facts.  Here  is  no  embellishment, 
no  impassioned  description,  although  the  facts  related  are  the  most 
aflecting  which  our  earth  has  witnessed.  They  wished  that  the  con- 
victions of  their  readers  should  rest  on  facts,  and  that  their  feelings 
too  should  be  excited  hj  facts. ^ 

The  artist  or  the  novelist  may  set  before  our  imaginations  the 
circumstances  of  the  Redeemer's  death,  much  more  impressively 
than  any  of  the  evangelists  have  done.  AVe  may  gaze  upon  the 
crucifix  and  weep  ;  but  our  tears  will  not  be  the  tears  of  repentance. 
And  our  indignation  may  burn  against  the  persecutors  of  one  so 
meek  and  so  benevolent,  while  we  continue  more  attached  than  ever 
to  those  sins  that  nailed  the  Lord  of  glory  to  the  tree.  It  is  the 
simple /ad  that  the  Son  of  God  died  for  our  sins,  —  as  that  fact 
illustrates  the  divine  character,  —  which  can  make  us  abhor  the  sin 
we  gloried  in,  and  gladly  suffer  for  the  truth  we  once  despised. 

While  we  have  so  rich  a  store  of  facts,  it  is  surely  unwise  to  re- 
sort to  fiction.  We  will  venture  to  say,  that  one  judicious  volume 
of  Christian  biography,  has  been  of  more  service  to  the  cause  of 
truth,  than  all  the  religious  tales,  or  stories,  '' founded  on  fact,"  that 
have  ever  issued  from  the  press. 

The  following  fragment  on  a  very  important  subject,  appears  to 
have  been  written  about  this  time.  I  deeply  regret  that  it  is  but 
a  fragment,  as  from  the  very  happy  mode  of  illustrating  the  sub- 
ject, which  belongs  to  the  first  part  of  the  paper,  it  would,  I  have 
no  doubt,  been  a  very  admirable  illustration  of  the  doctrine  had 
he  lived  to  complete  it :  — 

■■•'-  We  trust  we  shall  not  be  misunderstood,  as  speaking  against  earnest  ap- 
peals, founded  on  these  facts. 


418  APPENDIX, 


ON  THE  OMNIPRESENCE  AND  OMNISCIENCE  OF  GOD 

When  we  have  offended  a  fellow  man,  and  wish  to  escape  his 
anger,  the  first  thought  that  occurs,  is  to  flee  from  his  presence. 
We  know  that  his  observation  is  limited  to  one  little  spot ;  and  that 
anywhere  else  we  are  safe. 

Imagine,  however,  that  such  an  individual  possessed  an  active 
band  of  emissaries,  scattered  over  a  large  extent  of  territory,  with 
whom  he  can  maintain  an  easy  communication  ;  or,  that  he  himself 
is  able  to  move  with  immense  velocity  in  whatever  direction  he  may- 
please  ;  and  you  can  see  how  difficult  it  would  be  to  escape  from  his 
presence.  A  well-regulated  police  will  give  some  idea  of  this.  Let 
an  offender  escape  whither  he  will,  a  description  of  his  person,  and 
a  warrant  to  apprehend  him,  is  there  before  him.  Suppose  such  a 
system  perfect,  and  that  all  its  operations  are  performed,  not  by 
numerous  agents,  but  by  one  individual,  possessed  of  the  power  of 
moving  with  the  rapidity  of  lightning  if  you  will,  still  this  would 
afford  but  a  poor  conception  of  what  is  meant  by  omnipresence. 

Flight  would  no  longer  be  a  means  of  escape ;  but  concealment 
might.  The  eye  of  man  cannot  pierce  the  darkness,  —  nor  can  he 
guess  the  design  that  is  formed  in  secret.  And,  however  swift  his 
motions,  and  minute  his  observations,  some  lurking  place  might  still 
be  found,  which  the  most  exquisite  scrutiny  could  discover.  The 
bare  possibility  of  escape  would  be  thus  afforded,  and  that  is  all. 
But  there  is  no  such  possibility  of  escape  from  God.  "If  we  ascend 
up  into  heaven,''  &c.  It  is  not  by  any  change  of  place  that  God 
meets  us  wherever  we  turn.  However  difficult  may  be  the  concep- 
tion, he  is  present  everywhere.  He  fills  heaven  and  earth  with  his 
presence.  No  wonder  that  David  exclaimed,  on  contemplating  the 
omnipresence  of  the  Deity,  —  "  Such  knowledge  is  too  wonderful  for 
me."  Psalm  cxxxix.  15.  If  we  wish  to  do  anything  in  secret,  it  is 
the  presence  of  a  sentient  being  that  we  dislike  ;  and  the  more  acute 
and  piercing  his  senses,  the  more  would  we  avoid  his  presence.  The 
mental  and  moral  character  of  an  individual  is  also  a  matter  of  im- 
portance. Thus  darkness  suspends  the  power  of  one  of  the  human 
senses.  Hence  men  can  commit  crime  in  the  dark,  which  they  would 
blush  to  perform  in  open  day.     And,  in  some  instances,  the  presence 


OMNIPRESENCE    AND    OMNISCIENCE.      419 

of  the  inferior  animals  would  be  a  matter  of  indifference,  when  the 
presence  of  human  beings,  especially  of  one  esteemed  for  his  virtues, 
would  be  felt  as  a  most  distressing  intrusion.  Now  think  of  these 
remarks  in  their  application  to  God? 

"  The  darkness  and  the  light  are  both  alike  to  him."  And,  if  we 
speak  of  a  lurking  place,  behold,  "  hell  is  naked  before  him,  and  de- 
struction hath  no  covering.  All  things  are  naked,  and  open,"  &c. 
And  the  Almighty  Being,  of  whom  these  things  are  affirmed,  is  a 
being  of  uspotted  purity. 

Could  a  human  being  thus  force  himself  on  our  bodily  presence  at 
all  times,  and  in  all  circumstances,  there  would  yet  remain  to  us  one 
retreat,  whose  secrets,  without  our  consent,  no  human  scrutiny  might 
discover.  Man  may  drive  us  from  every  other  hiding-place,  but  he 
cannot  come,  unbidden,  into  the  secret  place  of  the  soul.  He  may 
mark  all  our  words  and  actions  but  our  thoughts;  his  most  keen- 
sighted  penetration  fails  him  there.  The  torture  may  be  employed 
to  force  the  will,  and  compel  us  to  reveal  what  is  passing  within  us. 
But  in  some  cases  of  firm  hardihood,  the  tyrant  has  found  even  his 
tortures  ineffectual.  There  have  been  minds  which  refused  to  bend, 
though  the  body  was  broken  on  the  torturing  wheel.  But  there  is 
no  such  repeal  from  the  all-knowing  Deity.  It  is  his  high  preroga- 
tive to  know  the  thoughts,  and  to  try  the  views,  of  the  children  of 
men.  Think  then  of  that  Almighty  Presence,  which  is  with  us 
wherever  we  go.  Think  of  that  all-seeing  eye,  which  not  only  can 
pierce  the  thickest  darkness,  and  lay  open  the  most  secret  hiding 
place;  but  which,  without  the  medium  of  anything  material,  can 
gaze  upon  the  naked  soul,  and  tell  the  unuttered  thoughts  that  are 
rising  and  passing  within  us. 

There  is  still  another  way  in  which  we  may  sometimes  escape  the 
anger  of  a  fellow-man.  If  we  can  but  avoid  him  for  a  season,  we 
know  that  time  will  erase  the  remembrance  of  the  offence,  or  at 
least,  it  will  mitigate  the  fury  of  his  passion.  Thus  Esau,  who 
sought  to  kill  his  brother  Jacob,  received  him,  after  the  lapse  of 
years,  with  cordial  affection.  But  it  is  not  so  with  God.  "  He  is 
not  a  man,  that  he  should  repent." 

God  is  present  throughout  space,  in  the  world  of  mind,  as  well  as 
the  world  of  matter.  He  is  present  also  throughout  all  duration, 
throughout  time,  throughout  eternity. 


420  APPENDIX. 

The  former  was  a  difficult  conception.  This  is  still  more  so,  and 
language  fails  to  express  it.  It  may  be  an  easier  way  of  conceiving 
the  idea,  to  say,  that  all  the  past,  and  all  the  future,  are  to  Him  as 
the  present,  *'  Known  unto  him,^'  &c.  Hebrews  iv.  6.  It  was  some 
such  conception  that  the  philosophers  had,  who  spoke  of  the  Eternal 
now.  Neither  matter,  nor  spirit,  nor  duration  itself,  can  remove  us 
from  this  omnipresent  God. 

Hitherto  we  have  been  labouring  to  get  some  conception  of  the 
idea  expressed  by  the  term  omnipresence. 

Let  us  consider  what  effect  it  should  produce  on  our  minds,  to 
know  that  God  is  omniscient  and  omnipresent. 

In  the  illustration  we  set  out  with,  we  supposed  the  case  of  one 
endeavouring  to  escape  the  anger  of  the  man  whom  he  had  offended. 
How  terrible  is  the  anger  of  an  adversary,  who  is  omnipresent !  On 
the  contrary,  how  delightful  the  thought  of  a  Friend  who  never 
leaves  us !  Now,  how  do  we  regard  Him  who  alone  possesses  thia 
wondrous  attribute  ?  Is  God  our  friend,  or  do  we  think  of  him  only 
as  our  enemy?  Alas,  too  many  think  of  him  merely  as  the  de- 
stroyer of  their  pleasures,  and  the  punisher  of  their  sins.  They 
would  fain  flee  from  his  presence,  but  they  cannot.  The  full  impres- 
sion of  his  omnipresence  would  be  perfect  misery.  This  they  can, 
in  some  degree,  avoid,  if  not  by  escaping  from  his  presence,  by  ban- 
ishing Him  from  their  thoughts.  The  idea  of  God  is  an  idea  of 
pain.  No  wonder,  then,  if  they  can  command  the  direction  of  their 
own  minds,  that  we  can  say  concerning  them,  "  God  is  not  in  all 
their  thoughts."  But  it  will  not  be  so  always.  There  are  cases  in 
which  conscience,  roused  by  a  deed  of  uncommon  atrocity,  and  ever 
awake,  has  given  some  impression  of  an  ever-present  God.  The 
murderer  may  flee  from  the  scenes  where  he  did  the  horrid  deed, 
but  they  will  not  leave  his  thoughts ;  asleep  or  awake,  the  sword  of 
justice  will  be  seen  hanging  over  him  ;  and  in  many  cases,  he  has 
been  known  to  seek  the  hand  of  the  avenger,  to  try  if  death  would 
give  relief  from  an  existence  of  unmingled  wretchedness.  0  what 
is  the  misery  of  those  who  have  lifted  up  their  eyes  in  hell !  There 
conscience  cannot  slumber.  There  the  unwelcome  idea  of  a  God  of 
unrelenting  justice,  can  be  banished  from  the  thoughts  no  longer. 

THE    END. 


Princeton  Theological  Seminary-Speer  Library 


1   1012  01045  4033 


'Y^^' 


